Perfect To A Fault
by angrylightwood
Summary: Alec Lightwood was born into the wrong family. With professional weapons dealers for parents, romance was never his top priority. That is, until he's arrested and put on trial. His only hope is Magnus Bane, a successful and charismatic defense attorney, but what happens when his feelings for Magnus start getting personal? /AU/ malec,clace,simobelle. M for possible lemons & language
1. Trouble

**(A/N- Ok! So this is my first uploaded story with my new account, so hopefully it's not too horrific. I had an old account where I wrote a lot of Sherlock Fanfiction, but I never really got into it. So, take 2! **

**While I'm going to be basing 95% of this story on Malec, I'll probably go into details on some of the other ships like Clace, Simobelle, ect. Hopefully I'll also pick up the courage to write some lemons, but that all depends on whether or not people like what I write.) **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. All credit goes to the rightful owner of the Mortal Instruments series, Cassandra Clare. **

If Magnus were to describe the feeling of walking into Morgenstern Legal, Tuesday morning, he would probably compare it to the feeling of having every inch of your skin pricked and prodded at by nasty, insufferable little imps. There wasn't much difference at all, when he thought about it. Brushing lint off his new suit – Westwood, and the greatest article of clothing to ever grace his wardrobe – he straightened his shoulders and picked up his pace, gliding through the lobby towards the main desk, hoping not to run into any trouble.

"_Bane_."

_Oh, fuck._

The walls practically vibrated at the sound of his boss's low, intimidating growl. Valentine Morgenstern was scary, on a good day, but this was downright _terrifying_, and Magnus new without a second thought that he was in deep shit. But, of course, he had known that the moment he had acted without thinking in the courtroom yesterday. Sighing, and sneaking a glance at Sophie, the receptionist, he turned on his heels and followed Morgenstern down the hall, into his office.

"Sit." Morgenstern barked.

Magnus sat.

Valentine leaned back on his chair, tapping his fingers furiously against the prissy mahogany desk he's obviously mistaken for a throne. Magnus felt that some eye rolling, and perhaps a snappy comment from Camille was in dire need. The Morgenstern's ego was typical gossip in the firm, as well as the lengthy list of illicit activities he threw himself into, bribery and alcoholism at the lead. Perhaps at one point Magnus would have appreciated the man's prosperity and business ingenuity, but Valentine's power-hungry attitude made that impossible. There was a fine line between political workers and politicians, and Valentine was most definitely the latter. Magnus, no matter how exceptional he was at his position as Defence Attorney, was not all that interested in the technical side of his job. For him, it was all sexuality and glamour, power and pleasure. He knew his boundaries, which separated him entirely from his employer.

That, as well as not being a self-satisfying dickhead.

After a long, torturous length of silence, Morgenstern stopped tapping his fingers on the wood long enough to run them through his silvery hair. At this point, Magnus's fear was equalled by his irritation. Which, admittedly, was usually the case when it came to his boss.

"You've got some serious nerve." Morgenstern said coldly.

Magnus exhaled. "Thank you."

"That was _not _a compliment, you miserable, aggravating son of a bitch."

Magnus raised his eyebrows, and smirked. "I take it I'm not in here to discuss the terms of my raise, then."

Morgenstern threw his hands into the air. "What is _wrong with you_, Bane? Do you have any self control? Any at all? Because I didn't see it in that fucking court room yesterday!"

He was pacing at this point, his hands folded behind his back, probably in an attempt to keep himself from wrapping them around Magnus's neck.

Magnus leaned back in his chair. "I don't believe I know what you're talking about."

"Mortmain. You said he was guilty. You stood up, in front of a full jury and a judge, and said he was guilty."

"And?"

"And you're a _Defence Attorney_! _His _Defence Attorney, might I add, and thanks to you and your obnoxious desire to be a smartass, we're now facing a lawsuit. I hope you're fucking happy, Bane."

Magnus laughed. "Oh, I am. Immensely. Positively thrilled, actually."

Valentine stared, seething at the man before him. Magnus had always had a reputation for being outrageous, especially in the court room, but his actions on Monday had beaten his previous behaviour by far. "I would fire you right now."

"No, you wouldn't." Magnus replied.

Valentine sighed. "You're right. But if I had even a tiny bit of sense, I would. The thing is, Bane, I don't like you. I don't particularly hate you, but you're arrogant, antagonizing personality makes me want to stab myself in the face."

"Oh come now, that doesn't sound like me at all." _Reprimanding bastard._

Valentine ignored him, and seemed completely oblivious to the telepathic tsunami of profanities Magnus was sending across to him.

"Honestly," Morgenstern continued, shaking his head. "The only reason you're still here is because, as much as I hate to say it, you're one the best. You _are_ the best, actually. I'm seriously considering having you for the new D.A if you keep it up. "

Magnus blinked. "D.A? Seriously? What about Jocelyn?"

"Jocelyn is good at her job, but she's no Magnus Bane, and you're _exactly what this firm _needs. The amount of client's you've saved is unbelievable, and the way things are going, you'll be the name on everybody's lips in – what, a year? The last thing you need right now is a reputation for being unprofessional."

At this, Magnus sat up. "How the hell am I unprofessional? I spent over six months of work on this!"

"You're unprofessional, Bane, don't even try to deny it. You stood up yesterday in front of a court and jury and _agreed with the prosecutor_. You had _one_ job. Obviously, one job is a little too much for you."

"Mortmain's a murderer," Magnus snapped. His hands balling into fists. "He killed three girls, nearly a fourth. If you expect me to _defend_ that piece of trash – "

"I _do_ expect you to defend him, Magnus, and I expect you to do it brilliantly, because I know you can. You just won't, for God knows what reason."

"I refuse to be the one to let that man walk. It's not right."

Valentine said nothing. He didn't have to. He was gaping at Magnus with amazement, and Magnus could practically hear the man's thoughts. "But you're a lawyer", "that's your job".

Magnus had mixed feelings about his career. Even as a child, his charisma and his talent at never shutting up baffled his friends and his family. Politics was a natural path for him. Going through school, when asked what he wanted to be, he would always reply, in a firm, strong voice, "a lawyer" unlike his peers, who would constantly change between wanting to be a firefighter, or the president, or an astronaut, or countless others that Magnus thought were all ridiculous.

His whole life he'd known that this was who he was. This is what he wanted. And he did want it. He enjoyed the power of being able to move a court with the strength of his words. His adored the pressure, the understanding that everything depended on him, and one slip could be fatal. To him his job was more than a profession – it was a dance; a swift, sensual, fact pacing dance.

Except, recently, he thought otherwise. The dance was only fun if the partners are tolerable. Magnus learnt that sometimes the people he had to help were not always people he felt he _should_ be helping. And he disliked the guilt he felt, knowing he allowed a man to walk free, to get away with whatever crime he committed. Guilt was disempowering to him, and he hated it.

As much as it shamed him to admit it, Magnus's main reasons for questioning his position in the firm were far more petty than his feelings of guilt. Truthfully, his sensual dance was not quite sensual enough. Standing in a court with a fancy suit and some nice words was good enough, but lately he found it less exhilarating than he had previously. It lacked the rush of adrenaline he needed, the intoxicating state of highness he usually found himself in, and he needed it like a junkie needed their fix. The problem was, he had no idea where to start in order to find it again.

Valentine snapped him out of his thoughts with a long, deep sigh. Magnus shook his head to clear his thoughts. He had almost drifted off . . . had he done that, he would not have been at all surprised if Morgenstern decided to fire him.

Valentine moved back around to sit down again. He buried his face in his arms and moaned. He looked up again, looking exhausted.

"I admire your morals, Mr Bane," he said. "But I don't pay you for your morals. I pay you to do the work. If you can't do that –"

"'_Mr _Bane_'_" Magnus scoffed, leaning forward in his seat to grin at his boss. "I don't believe you've ever called me _Mr_ before, _Mr _Morgenstern. Why the formality?"

"Because calling you a disobedient asshole isn't going to help me bribe you into behaving." Valentine answered simply. He smiled briefly, and it didn't reach his eyes.

Magnus's grin widened "Oh? And what did you plan on bribing me with, bar pathetic flattery. I don't want or need your money, so don't bother."

Now it was Valentine's time to smirk. He busied himself by sorting up a huge pile of paperwork which had been pushed up against his desk. "Course not. Magnificent Magnus Bane, tamed by the lure of a pay check? Hardly. I'm offering you something much better."

"Which is?"

"A promotion. District Attorney, actually. And I suppose money _is _in question, since this little deal would also involve a hefty raise in your salary. The hours are longer, admittedly, but this is a real opportunity to prove yourself, Bane, and I know you can do it."

"So we are here to discuss terms of my raise."

"So it would seem, yes."

Magnus inhaled deeply. While he wasn't particularly comfortable with his position at the moment, he wondered if a promotion was even something he wanted. A part of him – the part that still craved the dance – just wanted to change his name, pack his bags and skip town. To start fresh.

But then what?

"So, if I pinkie promise to shut my mouth and do as I'm told, I'm D.A?"

Morgenstern laughed, and Magnus swore internally. _Course not._ "Not so fast. As much as I respect the integrity of the pinkie promise, I'm afraid you're going to have to do a lot more than that to get me to trust you again."

Magnus groaned. "Fantastic. And what did you have in mind?"

Valentine slid a yellow, official looking file towards the edge of the desk for Magnus without a word, watching intently as Magnus picked it up, pulled out the top document and read it.

It was a case file; one Magnus was well educated on. He knew exactly what the case was about as soon as he glanced at the poor, grainy black and white photo.

It was a picture of a couple. A man and a woman, in their mid thirties, hurrying through the streets of Manhattan. They were familiar to him – he had seen pictures of them on the news and on posters for almost a year now, not to mention how often they were spoken of in the Firm. _Robert and Maryse Lightwood; _America's Most Wanted, according to the police department, which had been searching hopelessly for the couple for months now, without much luck. It wasn't just them, of course. Allegedly, they had two children; Jonothan and Alexander, although Magnus assumed the latter name was merely a rumour, as he heard next to nothing about him.

Magnus had to hand it to them; they had most likely revolutionised the world of organised crime, dealing in mostly illegal arms dealing, and a little drug trafficking on the side. The Lightwoods were notorious for being near unstoppable. The only disadvantage they had was their son, Jonathan Lightwood. He was skilled, but arrogant, and he had narrowly avoiding prosecution more times than Magnus could count.

"Ah," Magnus murmured. "The Lightwoods. They've been caught, I presume?"

Valentine shook his head. "Not yet. But they will be."

"Oh, well then, I'll just take your word for it." Magnus laughed humourlessly and threw the file back on the desk. Valentine glared at him.

"The police have been tracking the Lightwood's whereabouts for months now. Whilst Robert and his wife remain on the run, the police are confident that we will still catch them, with the help of the boy."

Magnus nodded. "The boy," he repeated. "You mean Jonathan Lightwood. Maryse and Robert's son."

"Wrong again," Morgenstern tutted. "Honestly, Bane, do you live under a rock?"

"If I lived under a rock I would have this case memorised. Thankfully, I spend my rock-free days having a social life, _sir." _Magnus often wondered how far he could push the boundaries before Valentine fired him. Surely it wouldn't be much more.

Valentine cleared his throat. "Right. Well, anyway, reports have sprung up that this boy – this so called 'Lightwood' – isn't a Lightwood at all." He pushed another smaller file towards Magnus. "Jonathan 'Jace' Herondale; Missing Person's Report. Jace disappeared from his grandmother's house at age ten. Suspected kidnapping, but there wasn't anything to go on until now."

Magnus struggled to keep his jaw from hitting the floor in shock. Jonathan _Herondale? _But that's –

"Herondale, as in _Imogen _Herondale? The head of NYPD? He's related to her?" Magnus asked.

Valentine nodded solemnly. "This means the Lightwood's are also responsible for kidnapping, and - we're assuming - some form of brainwashing. This kid's been forced to grow up with criminals, God knows what these fuckers have been doing with him. Right now the top priority is bringing this boy home to his family, and stopping this once and for all."

"Huh." Magnus said. "And you plan to do this by setting up an ambush and arresting him?"

Morgenstern shrugged. "If that's what it takes. It isn't like the police have many more options. They arrest the boy, take him in for questioning, try to find out if he knows where the Lightwood's are. Even if he says nothing, he's still safe, and he can see Imogen again."

"How is she dealing with this?"

"She's furious. All this time, she thought he was dead. She'd lost hope. And now here he is. She wants justice."

"Don't we all?"

"Of course." Valentine agreed, perhaps a little stiffly. He shuffled the papers back into place and set them on their pile, then looked up again. "This is where you come in."

"I'm intrigued."

"When the boy is arrested, he _will _be charged. I assume your admirable morals are outraged right now, as are mine. So I want you to defend him. You'll be his attorney, and you'll him get of the mess he was thrown into. This kid deserves a life after all this chaos. You need to give him that."

Magnus looked down. It wasn't a big ask. In fact, it was a perfect opportunity. Though he never followed it closely, the Lightwood story had always fascinated him, and the thought of meeting a member – well, in _theory – _of the elusive family was mouth watering.

"Do you take the case?"

Magnus smirked. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Valentine clapped his hands, rubbing them hungrily as he leaned back in his chair. 'Excellent. And just in time, too – I believe my next appointment is here."

Magnus got up and began walking towards the door, when Morgenstern's cold voice stopped him again.

"Oh, and Magnus?"

Magnus turned around and cocked an eyebrow."Yes?"

"Don't fuck this up."

* * *

"Don't you dare fuck this up, Alec."

Alec sighed, pausing in what had to be the most pitiful attempt at robbery he had ever executed. He didn't know what would be worse; being caught stealing and arrested, or being caught stealing _porn magazines _and laughed out of the shop. He had seen that happen more times than he could remember; courtesy of having Jace as a brother. Or, should he say, step brother.

The phrase _brother _filled Alec with a sense of crippling dread. _Brother. Jace is. Jace, brother, brother, Jace. _No matter how many times he rolled the words through his head, they did little to diminish the shameful feeling of longing whenever he was in the room with him.

It wasn't right. Alec knew that. It was wrong, and disgusting, and he hated himself for it. He knew he shouldn't feel this way for _boys, _let alone his own _brother_, but despite the lengths he went to in order to stop these raging emotions, the second Jace appeared, all arrogant and charismatic and gorgeous, Alec felt his stomach flip and his knees go weak.

_For God's sake Alec, _he chided. _Can you focus on not being caught stealing porn for the time being?_

Blushing furiously, Alec bit his lip and made a grab for the first magazine he could see. He couldn't bring himself to look at the cover, or do anything more than shove it hastily up his shirt and make a speedy start towards the door, with Jace following close behind him.

As soon as the newsagency was a block behind them, Jace started cackling. Alec said nothing, but slid the magazine out from under his shirt, his face still bright red, and handed it to his adopted brother bitterly. "I hope my never ending humiliation satisfied you thoroughly," he mumbled through his annoyance. Jace didn't reply, which was odd, because Jace usually never shut up.

Alec snuck a glance through his dark hair in Jace's direction, and realized with a start that he had disappeared. Heartbeat quickening, Alec turned around, searching through the streets of New York for his brother. To his relief, Jace had stopped walking and was standing only a few feet behind him. He was staring at the magazine, looking confused and crestfallen.

Alec approached Jace, feeling uncomfortable, which wasn't unheard of for Alec. People made him uncomfortable, period. Their emotions baffled him almost as much as his own, and he could never keep up with their hopes and needs and wants and fears and interests and God knows what else people thought about. Jace was one of the few who didn't mind Alec's awkward, shy persona, which was probably why Alec admired him so. Unlike everyone else, Jace didn't pressure him.

"Jace. Are you . . . okay?" Alec asked in a small voice.

Jace scowled. "Sure." He said sourly. Glaring at Alec, he flipped the magazine over, showing his brother the cover. Alec's blush, which had been slowly departing, returned with a vengeance. "Nothing wrong with this at all."

The model on the cover was of the male variety. He was wearing a zebra striped thong, and his perfectly toned six-pack was sparkling with what Alec could only assume was sweat. The model's hands were cupping playfully around the bulge between his legs. If Alec wasn't so mortified, he might have even been aroused.

He ducked his head, refusing to meet Jace's eyes. Of course, this would ironically happen to him, Alec Lightwood, closeted gay extraordinaire.

How miserably, humiliatingly, painfully typical.

"_Oh_," Alec groaned, still avoiding his adopted brother's eyes. "I . . . I grabbed the wrong one . . . I didn't really look. Sorry."

Alec looked up after a moment and saw, with a rush of relief, Jace's amused smirk. So he wasn't angry. "Oh, yeah _sure. _You _totally_ picked the wrong magazine, Alec." He winked knowingly and handed the porno back to Alec. "Secret's safe with me, big brother."

Alec spluttered, much to Jace's delight, and made a point to storm across to the nearest bin and all but hurl the stupid magazine into it.

"Oh, come on, Alec, I was _kidding_. You're straight as a skyscraper, happy?" _No. Because you're wrong._

"It's fine. I just . . . I don't like stealing."

Jace scoffed. "Uh, you realize your names Alec _Lightwood_, right?"

Alec folded his arms around his torso awkwardly. "It's just a name, ok. I'm not by parents. You know very well I don't want to get into that stuff. That's the reason why I stayed when they asked me to skip town with them_." Well. It was one of the reasons._

Jace chuckled. "You're too cute, Alec. You need to up your game a bit. Which is why you're coming with me tomorrow night."

Alec glanced at his brother, his brows furrowing. "What's tomorrow night? Jace, if it's a party, you know I don't like th – "

"It's not a party," Jace said seriously. He wasn't smiling now. His expression had turned calculative, considerate; it was the face he had when he was thinking of a plan.

"So . . . what is it?"

"It's a . . . a delivery. I guess_. IfyouknowwhatImean_."

"I – no. I don't know what you mean."

Jace sighed. "_Drugs_, Alec. It's _drugs_. There's a dealer, he's friends with Mother and Father -he says he'll give it to me for next to nothing."

Alec ran his hands through his hair. He couldn't believe it. Jace had been into the drug scene since he was about fifteen, but Alec assumed he was over it, since he hadn't been taking anything for about five months. Apparently, Alec had been mistaken. "Jace, there's no way I'm letting you –"

"There's no way you're _stopping _me, either," Jace pointed out. "So, either you come with me and watch my back, like I've always trusted you to do, or you stay home and let me go by myself. There's no way you're going to talk me out of this, Alec. _You_, of all people, should know that."

Alec bit his lip and looked down. _God_. What did he _say _to this? Jace was right. Alec was hopeless at talking Jace out of anything, and Alec couldn't risk staying behind. What if something happened?

Alec already knew what he was going to do. He was going to accompany Jace, because he loved him, because he feared for him, because it was what he did _every single time._ Jace had a bad track record when it came to drug deals. They always tended to go awry. And, naturally, it always seemed to be Alec who suffered the most. Whether that meant being beaten to a bloody pulp by an angry dealer, and arrested by the cops, it always happened to him. And Alec would gladly do it again and again if it meant protecting his brother.

"Fine." He muttered.

"Fine."

"_Fine." _

Jace flung an arm around his brother's shoulder and chuckled. "Trust me. I've got this. _Nothing _is going to go wrong."

**(A/N – Of course, Jace **_**had **_**to jinx it ;) Hopefully you didn't completely despise it, because I'm really not too sure about how I feel about it at the moment. I would really appreciate reviews; they'll influence my decision to actually keep going with this, or sink into the earth out of humiliation.**

**One last note, I **_**have not **_**forgotten about Isabelle or Max, don't worry. I didn't mention them because I was only writing the information that Magnus is aware of. I fully intend to write about them later in the story.**

**Thanks so much for reading and don't forget to leave a review! Thanks!) **


	2. Deal

**(A/N – thank you so, so much to everyone who reviewed! **

**So, I'm really **_**not **_**happy with how this chapter has turned out. Maybe I'm just being hard on myself but it's just very 'meh' to me. I'm going to blame that on my writer's block, which I had for, like, ever. All I know is that it sounded so much better in my head, and I just can't put it into **_**words. There's **_**still a lot of things I've yet to explain, as you'll probably find out when reading.**

**Lastly, I just want to apologize because this chapter and the previous ones were fairly boring, no matter how hard I tried. It has to be that way because I really want to explore the characters more, and I need time to properly introduce them. I promise, it starts getting more exciting in the next chapter! As for this one, I really hope you enjoy!)**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own anything. Would that I could.**

* * *

Alec hesitated before pressing the buzzer. He thought hard. _What am I even doing here?_

It pained him to think that he needed a reason to visit his sister, but he had avoided her for so long that his sudden appearance would probably result in his blood staining the door mat. His younger sister, Isabelle, was not unlike Jace, strength wise. Alec was skilled enough when it came to fighting, but nothing he did could possibly hope to match his siblings in a punch up. He had learned that, quite thoroughly, through experience.

Alec looked around, feeling lost. Brooklyn hadn't changed, not since he last visited, which must have been at least a year ago; and yet the it still lacked the feeling he wanted most – the familiar warmth that followed his sister around like a guardian angel. There was no warmth here. The streets were cold and vacant, the surrounding buildings rundown to the point of dilapidated. He looked down at his hand. On it was the address he had managed to find by sneaking around Jace's room, but now that he was here, he wondered if perhaps the address was even legit. Alec just couldn't believe that his sister – his proud, elegant, beautiful sister – would be wasting her time in a place like this.

Saying that, it wasn't as if she had much of a choice in the matter. For as Alec could remember, he and Izzy had shared the same outlook on the 'family business'; it was twisted, disgusting and wrong. Neither of them wanted anything to do with it. Jace resented it to an extent, but his dark streak was too potent for him to resist, so, essentially, Alec had always relied on Isabelle as his anchor, the one who kept him stable when everything went downhill. No matter what, Isabelle would always be there.

The thing that defined Alec and Isabelle as siblings was the fact that, at the end of the day, Isabelle had a place to go. Unlike Alec, Isabelle was a social butterfly, an extrovert – likeable, loveable, Isabelle was always the one with all the attention. That suited Alec fine. He disliked being put on display for everyone to see; he preferred the quiet, the calm. Other than Jace, he never really spoke to anyone, or befriended anyone, which also suited Alec fine.

And then the reports started. Overnight, the Lightwood's had moved to the very top of the city's long list of undesirables. There were warrants, and articles, and interviews, and press conferences, and media coverage so overwhelming they were forced to leave town for two months. When they returned, Isabelle remained for three days before packing her bags and running away.

Alec hadn't eaten for a week after her departure. He was worried sick, but he should have known she would be alright. Isabelle never made any effort to contact her parents, but she did send a brief text to both Jace and Alec, explaining that she was fine, and that she was living with her boyfriend, Simon (whom Alec had never heard of until then), in his apartment. She offered to meet them a few times, but, although Jace said yes, Alec declined. He wasn't even sure why. Maybe there was a small part of him that still resented her for leaving him alone. And now, with over six months of no contact, he wondered if he and Isabelle could ever be what they once were – siblings who loved and cared for each other deeply. It didn't help that Alec hadn't returned any of her phone calls, or made an effort to visit her, or even meet her boyfriend. It's never too late, he supposed.

He shivered as he felt an icy raindrop hit the back of his neck. It was starting to rain again, much to his luck. He was wearing a thin, long sleeved black shirt which did little to fight off the icy September chill. It was pointless to turn around and go home now, and it would only result in him catching a cold. With a long, deep sigh, he pressed the buzzer down.

There was a small commotion inside as someone scrambled towards the door. Alec took an automatic step back, startled for a brief moment at the sudden burst of noise.

The door swung open to reveal a tall, gangly, awkward looking teenager with mousy brown hair and a pair of glasses dangling at the edge of his nose. _Ah, _Alec thought. _This must be Simon._

He was wearing tight fitting jeans and a baggy t-shirt with an obscure Radiohead reference he probably didn't understand. Everything about him screamed _hipster. _Typically, Alec made a genuine effort to remain open minded about people – but he couldn't help feeling a twinge of annoyance that Isabelle thought _this _guy was seriously worth her time.

Alec cleared this throat. "Uh, hey. You, ah - you're not Simon Lewis, by any chance?"

The boy replied with a watery smile. "Well, my friends call me 'Simon, the Silent Guardian, the Watchful Protector, The Dark Knight' but Simon works, too."

Alec blinked. "E-excuse me?"

Simon, or whatever his name was, groaned. "Come on! You have _got _to be kidding me! _Tell _me you've seen The _Dark Knight_!"

"Who's that?" Alec asked.

Another groan. "Never mind. Can I help you with anything, or were you just planning to stand outside in the rain and get hypothermia?"

Alec blushed. _Brilliant way to introduce yourself, Alec. _"Oh, I um – I'm Alec. Alexander Li . . . Wayland. Alec Wayland. I'm Isabelle's brother."

He cursed himself mentally. The name 'Wayland' had been the Lightwood family's alias for over two years, and that Alec could still manage to forget it perplexed him to no end. More than once he had caught himself about to reveal his name and destroy everything, and would have to all but swallow his own tongue to stop the word from coming out. _Alec Wayland. That's your name_.

Simon's face darkened instantly. "Oh," he muttered quietly. There was a cool, uncomfortable silence between him. Alec found it strange that this boy was younger, smaller and infinitely less powerful than him, and yet the intimidating flash in his eyes still set Alec on edge.

Alec cleared his throat again and rubbed his arm awkwardly. "I . . . I can come back later . . ."

Simon stood back and opened the door wider. "No. I think it's been long enough, don't you?"

Alec nodded, swallowing hard. He couldn't believe how pathetic he was acting. While he might not like it, he _was _a Lightwood, and who was this kid? A washed up Brooklyn band geek?

_You can talk, Alec, _said a critical voice in his mind. _Little Alexander Lightwood, washed up and friendless, unlikeable and unwanted. Oh yes. You can talk._

He stepped through the threshold to the apartment, looking around. The house was a mess, creatively so. At first, Alec only noticed the stained walls, with slurs and insults and song lyrics scribbled onto them, and the floors, which were covered in fast food wrappers, soda cans, scrunched up sheets of music and God knows what else. But then, all at once, he saw the clothes. There was a pile of odd, colourful clothes at the end of the dimly lit hall, and the very sight of it filled him with a feeling he hadn't felt in months. _Isabelle. _

He smiled as Simon led him through the hall, carefully stepping over the mess on the floor like he was avoiding mines. "Sorry about the mess," he said, in a tone that suggested he really wasn't sorry at all. "Things are pretty hectic here lately."

"Really? How so?" Alec asked cringing as he spotted an empty packet of condoms in the corner.

"Just band stuff; sorting out names and songs and stuff." Simon glanced at Alec. "I'm in a band, by the way."

"I figured. Singer?"

"Ugh, no. That would be disastrous. I'm lead guitarist."

Alec grinned. "My brother Jonathon played guitar for a few months. It was horrible."

Simon laughed, having appeared to have warmed up to Alec. "I'll bet. Everyone wants to play guitar because of its 'look'. But it's way more than that," he put on a heavy, droning accent, "it's about _expression, man."_

Alec bit his lip to contain his laughter, and snuck another glance at Simon. He wasn't too bad. A little dorky, maybe, but he wasn't terrible.

They were in the main room of the apartment, which was split into three sections; the living room, the kitchen, the dining room. There was rubbish everywhere, but the place felt cosy and warm. It had character.

Alec was about to ask about his sister, when he heard a familiar voice. "Simon! Do you know where my foundation is? I can't find it anywhere!"

Alec the click-clack of her heels against the wooden floorboards, and suddenly, there she was. His sister.

She hadn't changed. Not one bit. Her hair was a bit darker, her features more relaxed, but she was still as beautiful and confident as ever. She glanced up at Simon, and then did a double take as she noticed Alec.

Her voice shook. "Alec?"

Alec stepped forward, his heart hammering. "Izzy. I – I'm sorry I haven't called. I –"

"Simon. Get out. Please." Isabelle's voice was icy. Simon looked at both of them, then – undoubtedly concerned for his own safety – nodded and left the room.

Isabelle was silent.

"Izzy, I'm so sorry –"

"Fuck you."

Alec hid his face in shame. He couldn't stand this. He couldn't stand the all this hatred, the tension and unfriendliness between them, knowing that it was all his fault.

"Why did you leave, Izzy?"

Isabelle blinked. "Excuse me?"

He tried again. "When we got back. You left. You left me alone with this family."

Isabelle rolled her eyes and scoffed. "For fuck's sake, Alec, you're not a kid. You're my _older _brother. You were supposed to take care of me. Not the other way around."

"I _did _take care of you!" he cried, struggling to keep his voice steady. "I always have."

"Well you should have done something. You should have made an effort to be a decent brother, Alec. You shouldn't have just disowned me like that. It's been _halfa year. _No calls. No visits. _Nothing."_

"I was angry with you!"

"Why? How is _any _of this my fault?"

Alec rubbed his hands over his face tiredly. It _wasn't _her fault. But he couldn't pretend the childish feeling of rejection didn't bother him. "Look. Isabelle. I don't blame you for leaving. I don't. But you were the one person who kept me sane. Jace doesn't care what Mother and Father do. He doesn't care that they never have time for us unless it's business. But you and I always did. And then you left, and it's _because _I'm your older brother that I didn't follow you. You deserved a life, Izzy. I wouldn't be of any help."

Isabelle sighed, and collapsed onto the overstuffed sofa. She beckoned him over wordlessly. He sat down next to her and glanced at her sheepishly. Her eyes were closed, her brow creased in concentration.

"I appreciate that. 'Not talking to me for my own sake'. How very selfless of you." Her voice was bitter. "But I still don't understand. You could have left. You didn't have to move in with me to get away, you know."

"I know." Alec replied. "But that's the difference between me and you. People _love _you. You're lovely and kind, and you'll always be welcome. I really don't have any redeeming qualities. I don't have any friends, and I'm just . . . I'm not a good person. I really only have Jace. I wouldn't know how to live without him." He looked down again, avoiding Isabelle's gaze.

Isabelle knew all about Alec's feelings for Jace. As far as he was aware, she was the only one who knew his deep, dark secret. She didn't judge him for it, but he knew deep down that she pitied him.

She looked at him for a long time. "I'm really glad you're here, Alec." She whispered.

Alec looked up. "R-really?"

"Of course." She smiled softly. "You're my brother. I love you."

Alec guessed that she sensed he was at a loss for words, because she silently wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in a hug.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, too. Let's just forget about this, ok? We're both idiots. Maybe it comes with the name?"

Alec smiled. "Maybe."

They talked for about two hours; not about anything in particular, but Alec enjoyed it anyway, just to hear his sister's voice. Simon left for band practise, which meant it was just the two of them.

She was happy, finally. She was working in a local club called Pandemonium, which was 'all the rage' according to her. Even when she was living with him, Isabelle loved to go clubbing. She and Jace were always hitting the streets in search for new hotspots. They'd even managed to drag Alec along a few times, but he never really enjoyed it. Once again, people and crowds and healthy social behaviour weren't really his area.

In the end, it was a text from Jace that snapped Alec back into reality. It was almost six, and Jace wanted to meet him outside Taki's at half past. He hadn't told Isabelle about what they were doing tonight; there was really nothing she could do to stop Jace, as she probably already knew.

Before he left, Isabelle hugged him again. "Don't be a stranger," she warned. "Or I'll find you."

"Sure. I'll bring Jace next time, and maybe I'll _not _make a fool of myself in front of your boyfriend this time."

Isabelle winced. "Hm. Maybe not. Jace loves to tease Simon. I'm afraid the next time he's over there'll be a fist fight. But," she lowered her voice and leaned in. "You and Jace . . ."

Alec blushed and shook his head. "I don't . . . there's nothing . . . w-we –"

"You haven't said anything?" she pressed.

"Don't be stupid," Alec snapped, more harshly than he intended to. "He's like my brother."

Izzy bit her lip and looked down. She had the look she always had when she wanted to say something potentially insulting. Alec braced himself.

"Do you think . . . well, maybe you should meet other people? You're not the only gay man in town, you know. I mean, have you _seen _the gay bars?"

Alec flinched, his cheeks deepening. Honestly, he hated these conversations. The last thing he wanted to do was admit his disinterest in women. He didn't want to see the shame in his parent's eyes as they realized they raised a gay son. He didn't even want to _think _about how Jace would react. And really, it wasn't as if he wasn't already a freak. His name was dirt, he was alone, he was hunted, and the last thing he needed was anyone to find out his was gay.

"I'm not going to a bar, Izzy," he mumbled, picking at his nails. He did that a lot, especially when he was nervous.

She sighed. She knew exactly how he felt. Alec had always had a crippling shyness holding him back. His fear of being judged kept him from living the life he deserved.

"Ok," she said with resignation. "But Alec. You're twenty years old, and you've never been kissed. You've never even been on a date. I think maybe you should just let him go."

Alec said nothing. He couldn't bring himself to look at her. She undoubtedly knew how much this hurt him, but of course, Isabelle was too kind to deny Alec the truth. And it was the truth. Even he knew that.

_Still_, he thought as he stepped out into the cool evening air. _Letting go is easier said than done._

* * *

Jace had taken it upon himself to order their lunch, which was probably just another excuse to flirt with the hot waitresses. When Alec arrived at Taki's, Jace had started well and truly into his own meal – some weird looking foreign dish that had probably spent a few months soaking in a vat of oil, judging by the colour of it. He took the seat opposite Jace and stared down at the plate in front of him. To his joy, Jace had remembered his usual order; a wrap and a small coffee.

"Aren't we going to be late?" he asked, taking a bite.

"I'm not an idiot," Jace replied grumpily, speaking through a mouthful of food. Alec raised his eyebrows and took a sip of coffee. It was the type of coffee that you hated, but kept buying for the hell of it. "There's no way I'm arriving on time. That'd be suspicious. The last thing I need is some dickhead trying stick his German Sheppard on me again."

Alec grinned at the memory.

They ate in silence for a moment, before Jace said, in the most conspicuously casual voice ever, "So. How did it go with Isabelle? You're still alive, so I'm guessing it went pretty well?"

Alec frowned. "Uh, yeah, I guess. How did you know I went to see Isabelle today?"

Jace grinned into his drink. "I heard you practising your apology speech in the bathroom this morning."

"Oh." Alec felt his cheeks go red. _God damn it, _he thought angrily. _You blush like a fourteen year old girl. _

"Well, I wouldn't advise a life of public speaking, let's put it that way," Jace shrugged. "How was she?"

"Angry."

"Yeah, well you can't really blame her. You take the cake for asshole brother of the year."

"Thanks, Jace."

"No problem." Jace thought for a moment, and then smiled. "Did you meet Simon?"

Alec laughed. "Yeah. He's a bit . . . um."

Jace snickered. "I'm amazed that Isabelle will give him the time of day." he glanced at his watch, and his laughter trailed off. "Ok, so maybe we should hurry a little."

Alec took one last bite and then stood up, following Jace out the door. One of the waitresses dropped a flirty wink in Jace's direction - which he returned with more boredom than enthusiasm - but she quickly scurried away when she saw Alec's death glare.

Maybe he couldn't charm people into doing what he wanted like Jace could, but he knew he could be intimidating enough when he wanted to be.

Once outside, Jace yawned. "Ugh. Maybe planning an illegal meet up with a shady drug dealer wasn't a good idea for a Wednesday. I'm beat. We should just go home."

"You don't seriously mean that, do you?" Alec asked incredulously, with eyes going wide.

Jace snorted. "Fuck no. Now hurry up. Jesus Christ, Alec, if you walk any slower you'll be going backwards."

"Sorry." He sped up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Hey, Jace?"

"Hey, Alexander?"

He cringed at the use of his much hated full name. "Have you heard from Mum and Dad? Do you . . . do you have any idea where they are?"

For a long time, Jace remained silent. Then, with a long, almost bitter sigh, he reached into one of the pockets on his coat and drew out his phone, handing it to Alec.

"They texted me a couple nights ago from _Germany. _I tried to call back, but I think they've already changed phones again. Somehow I doubt they're gonna be back for at least a month or so."

Alec flicked through the contacts. Apart from a few names like Isabelle and other friends of his, the only contacts listed were _Parents. Parents #56, Parents #62, Parents #69; _Alec's parents never kept a phone for more than a week, and so they were always getting texts from unknown callers, with vague little messages like 'It's us', and the two boys would always know who it was. Looking through the list, Alec felt a jolt of sadness. This is not how their lives were supposed to be. There had to be more than a hundred different versions of their parent's number.

He handed the phone back to Jace absently. "You should have told me."

"I didn't want to bother you."

"It's bothering me now."

Jace gave him a funny look. "Why?" he asked. "Because they won't be home? It's not like _that _hasn't happened before."

"That's _exactly _what's bothering me," Alec cried, throwing his hands up in frustration. "I hate this. I hate what this life is doing to us. Our family. Isabelle's gone, our parents barely even speak to us, and Max is . . ." he trailed off. "I just want my parents _here_."

Jace nodded stiffly. "I wish my parents were here, too."

Alec didn't reply. They had reached the taboo subject they had promised they would never discuss. He found it amazing that Jace would even mention it. Usually even the slightest hint that the conversation would be heading down that road just killed the small talk instantly. Alec couldn't blame him. It was the same with Max.

He sighed. It was getting dark. They were now walking through an otherwise deserted part of town, home to a good majority of the city's undesirables. Thieves, junkies, rapists and murders were everywhere. When they were twelve, he and Jace would deliberately walk through these streets at night, just for a thrill. Alec hated it, but he stayed for Jace, who seemed to crave the adrenaline. They had wandered through these parts so often that Alec could direct his way through it in his sleep. Half of the buildings were old warehouses, used as dens. Once, Jace had forced him to climb in through the window of one warehouse, unsuspecting to the fact that it was housing at least twenty gang members. That was his first fight. It wasn't Jace's, but for a moment he could appreciate Jace's love of danger. It _was _exhilarating. Though both boys had barely escaped with their lives, they laughed the whole way home. After that, they had never been closer, as friends or brothers.

"The guy should be just over there," Jace pointed to one of the warehouses, and sped up. Alec followed, but hesitantly. He shuddered, not from the cold but out of fear; something felt wrong, somehow. There was something different about this.

He reached out and grabbed Jace's wrist, forcing him to a halt. Jace yelled out in protest and snatched his hand away violently. "Alec, if you even _think _of trying to change my mind, I'm going to punch you. Got it?"

Alec groaned angrily. "Jace, _please_, listen to m –"

Jace struck him. Not hard, but enough to send him stumbling. He doubled over, and pressed a hand to the his face where Jace had hit him. It throbbed painfully. There would definitely be a bruise. Fighting off an urge to yell and curse and retaliate, Alec settled with shooting Jace an accusing glare.

"I don't know why I put up with you." He said quietly.

Jace said nothing, but Alec could see his pulse quicken, and lips parted in shock. _Well. _At least that was a halfway decent response. "Hurry up, Jace, if it's _so damn important _to you."

He shoved passed his brother roughly, but Jace managed to overtake him anyway. They paused at the door and shared a look.

"I'll go first," Jace said.

Alec rolled his eyes.

"Alec, I –"

"I know you're sorry, Jace. It's fine."

Jace looked down. Alec waited for him to open the door, and when he didn't, he pushed it open himself. "Go on."

Jace nodded, and entered. The warehouse was massive, bigger than any he had seen before. Alec wondered if anybody else was residing here. Something told me that they were definitely not alone.

It was dimly lit, and the mass of towering shelves cast eerie shadows upon the floor. Alec shuddered again.

"He's here," Jace muttered, his voice low. "I can hear it. Listen."

Alec concentrated, and sure enough he heard something; footsteps, soft and graceful, and approaching face.

"Greetings," came a loud, raspy voice. "I see you brought a friend."

Alec's eyes strained against the shadows. He could make out a frail, odd looking figure in the darkness. He watched as the figure stepped into the light to reveal an old, dirty looking man, his skin a sickly pale colour, even whiter than Alec's, which was something. He was short, but there was something in the man's eyes; something calculative and knowing, and Alec hated it.

"This is Alec," Jace said coldly. In the corner of his eye, he saw Jace take a deliberate step forward, protectively shielding him from anything that might happen. "You said you could offer me something?"

The man laughed. It made Alec's skin crawl. _Something is not right_. "I can. But I'm not sure I should give it to you. What's a nice boy like you doing, getting himself into this kind of trouble?"

"I'm surrounded by Lightwoods all day, every day. It was bound to happen. Hey, you should see Alec over here," he pointed to Alec, shooting him a mocking grin. "He's bad to the bone. A real rebel, this one."

The old man turned to Alec. Something flashed in the man's eyes. Confusion? Surprise? Worry, maybe. Alec's dread was growing more and more profound with every second.

"Oh?" the man said curiously. "And so your friend brought you here today?"

Jace laughed. "Absolutely."

Alec wanted to kick him. Hard.

"Well then, are you sure you want anything? I _can _give you a discount, but I need to know for sure if you're going to get anything."

And then it clicked. All this stalling, asking questions, the confusion in his eyes; all of it made sense.

"Jace." Alec said quietly, his blood running cold. _Oh God. _

Jace ignored him. "Why? I wouldn't be here if I wasn't sure."

"Jace, we need to leave, _now_." _Come on. Please. _

"We just need an absolute confirmation." The man replied.

_Oh no. God. is not happening. _

"Jace!"

"What do you mean 'we'?"

"What?"

"JACE!"

Finally, Jace, too, understood. Except it was too late.

"Come on!" Alec yelled, grabbing his brother's elbow and all but dragging him along as he sprinted to the front door. Jace was stunned, completely amazed.

They reached the front of the door when Jace stopped. "No, not that way. We need to hide."

"What?!" Alec demanded in a whisper.

"I was set up. If we go out that door, we'll be arrested in a heartbeat. It's a drugs bust, Alec."

Alec's fist clenched. It took everything he had not to beat him senseless, then and there. "Yeah, Jace, I got that." He ran his hands through his hair. "Jesus. Oh God. Can you see him? I can't see him anywhere."

The man – the undercover cop – was nowhere to be found. Most likely he had alerted the rest of the police, who were probably watching them right now, waiting for the exact moment to intervene.

"I don't know!" Jace yelled. "Maybe if we can climb into the air vents? We'll need to climb the shelves, but –"

"_Freeze!_"

"Fuck!" Jace cried. "Come on!" he lead Alec down the side of the warehouse, passed piles upon piles of old boxes, struggling to keep towards the shadows.

"_Stop! Police! We have you surrounded!"_

"Jace, you need to get out of here!" Alec said desperately. "If they find out who you are –"

"What about you? What if they find out who you are?"

Alec shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I won't say anything. Look, climb the crates and go out through the window. If I surrender, it'll give you time to escape. Go!"

The warehouse was filled with lights. At least thirty cops were approaching, there torches searching out any sign of life. It would only be moments until they were both caught.

"I'm not leaving you." Jace said firmly.

"Go! Now!"

"No!"

Alec pushed him towards the crates, and Jace shoved back. Alec fell backwards and stumbled into the light, knocking over a box. Its contents – scrapes of metal and loud, heavy materials – all fell out, alerting every person in the street to his whereabouts.

A group of seven officers reach the corner, and they spotted him instantly. "Stop right there!"One of them shouted - a woman, older than the rest of them, and vaguely familiar. Alec cursed, and did the only thing he could do. He dropped to his knees and put his hands up. The last thing he saw of Jace was him disappearing behind one of the crates. _Please. Don't do anything stupid. _

The woman reached him first, pushing his back down violently, so he was lying face down on the cold cement floor. He could sense the gun pointed at him. He did his best to block out the deafening sounds of the rest of the NYPD catching up, and instead prayed that Jace had enough intelligence to run.

Someone hurled him to his feet, grabbing both his wrists and forcing them behind his back. "You are under arrested," said the voice of the woman who had pushed him down. He felt the cold sting off handcuffs binding his hands together. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a Court of Law. You have a right to an Attorney, and if you wish to –"

"Yeah, thanks, I know the drill," Alec snapped. With everything happening at once, and a desperate need to know where his brother was, politeness was his last priority.

The woman slapped him hard across the cheek. He hissed with pain, his eyes watering and he struggled against his cuffs. She stepped into his vision, a look of disgust clear upon her face.

"You're not Jonathon." She said coolly.

"Who?" Alec said, determined to keep his voice calm. Whatever happened, he _couldn't _give away Jace's cover. He didn't care what happened to him. Jace had half of his life running, and Alec wasn't going to be the one who ruined it for him.

"Don't lie to me, you pathetic son of a bitch," the woman snarled. She leaned in close, so close that Alec could feel her rapid breathing against his cheeks. "There was another boy with you. Jonathon Herondale. _Where is he?_"

Alec shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was alone."

"No you were _not!" _She yelled. "Where is he, _where is my grandson_?!"

Alec's eyes snapped open, and he lifted his head to stare, gaping, at the woman who arrested him. The proud, tall, skeletal woman who looked so familiar – and now he knew why.

"You're . . . you're Imogen Herondale?" he asked.

He froze, unable to comprehend what he had just done. His blood went cold. _Tell me you didn't just say that_.

Imogen's eyes widened. "You know me? You know . . ." she trailed off as realization struck. "You . . . you _knew_, you know about my grandson . . . _who are you_?"

Her voice spoke clearer than her words. The threat in her tone was unmistakable. Of course she knew who he was. Of course. He could see it in the shake of her hands, and the barely concealed hate in her eyes. Her very being seemed to be screaming the same word over and over again; _Lightwood. _

And, of course, she was right.

At the end of the warehouse, just behind a window, he saw a familiar figure dart past. The head of golden hair was noticeable, even in this light. _Jace_.

His heart expanded with relief. Thank God. No matter what happened to him now, at least Jace would be ok and out of trouble. And, if Alec could manage to keep his mouth shut, it would stay that way.

He set his shoulders determinedly and met Imogen's frantic eyes without a trace of fear. "I think I'd like a lawyer, now."

* * *

**(A/N – UGHHHHHHH. I hate that ending. I'm really disappointed with this chapter, but that's because I never planned out how I'd write the beginning. The next one will be better, I promise **

**I would really appreciate it if you review, because it lets me now that I'm not just writing into a void and everyone secretly helps me, and it genuinely improves my skills. It really does. SO DO IT! Well, if you want. But you should because I'll love you forever :D**

**Thanks for reading!)**


	3. Per Bona

**(A/N – I'M NOT DEAD I SWEAR! Ok, so yes, I admit, it's been a while. But I have my reasons! Basically, my computer fried and it's been an absolute bitch fixing it. Nothing seemed to work and then it actually broke for good, so I've been computerless for ages. I have been working on this chapter for **_**ages**_**, to be honest. Want to know when? My creative writing sesions. Yeah. The things I do for you guys. I also had a go at the library, but the Microsoft program is from the 18****th**** century or something. Idk. And besides that, I've had a lot of trouble dealing with my anxiety and my depression, and it's just been getting to be a lot lately. So I sincerely apologise, and let's just all hope this never happens again.**

**. And so, without further adu, CHAPTER THREE FINALLY OMFG. **

**No seriously I'm so happy I could cry. ENJOY)**

Flicking the light switch on with more force than he intended, Magnus stepped into the cold, empty space of his living room floor, holding the door open to let Camille through. He took a moment to appreciate how beautiful his companion looked – although, she seldom looked anything other than beautiful. She was wearing a short black dress (Magnus was convinced it was actually a shirt) and thigh high stilleto boots. He didn't understand why she bothered with heels at all; even without them, she was still incredibly tall, and her lean, catlike figure only emphasised that fact. Her thick golden hair had been done up in a French bun, but had since fallen out, and was now hanging loosely down her neck, the sweat causing it to stick to her skin like Velcro. How could it be, he thought, that this dishevelled, messed up girl could still be so impossibly elegant. Somehow, Camille met every situation with the nobility of a princess; in fact, sometimes he swore she was a princess, or at least some form of royalty. The natural superiority in her voice, expression and posture was a dead giveaway.

He remember the one time he had asked her that exact question, over a bottle of the finest champagne they could find, to which she had merely smirked the way she usually did – cold humour and a sense of knowingness – said, "the French have many secrets, darling," and laughed. Camille had strange views about her heritage. When it came to her time with Magnus, or any of her other friends, she spoke loudly, proudly, not caring about the mispronunciations of her words or the emphasis of sounds due to her accent, which weren't nearly as bad as she made them out to be. Her voice, however, was entirely different whenever she was in business mode. She explained that, as a criminal psychologist, she dealt with less than friendly individuals, and thus she didn't want to risk her nationality becoming source for some racist slur by a homicidal maniac. "Nobody takes a French woman seriously in an American society." Magnus thought this was ridiculous, but it was difficult to sway someone as set-in-her-ways as Camille. She was too . . . too proud, too egotistical, too impossibly aware of her own perfection to let anybody else stop her.

"Magnus, have you been listening to a word I just said?" came Camille's sharp as nails voice, snapping Magnus out of his thoughts.

He shook his head a grinned sheepishly. "Of course, the inequality of vegans in a westernized world, right?"

She slapped him, hard, on the shoulder. "About thirty minutes ago."

Magnus blushed. Of course, he thought miserably. Only Camille could make him blush. There was something very intimidating about her eyes. They were always so cold, so calculative. No wonder she was good at her job. She could break anybody. "Right. Sorry about that, darling. My mind is elsewhere."

"So I see," Camille sniffed. "What's wrong, anyway? You barely said a word at Pandemonium, even when I introduced you to that nice German man. Did you see that pack of his? Gods . . ."

Magnus huffed and threw himself onto the fluoro green loveseat, Camille sitting down next to him with all the grace he lacked. "I despise that club, remember? It's full of mindless idiots with bad taste in music. And, I'm fairly certain Mr Hot Guy you kept trying to set on me was actually Miss Hot Guy. Did you see all that makeup?"

"You wear makeup, too."

"I make it look good," he insisted. "And I don't coat it on like fucking icing, either. The club is ridiculous. Everything is ridiculous. It's just so dull, don't you think? Absolutely no thrill at all . . . ."

Camille looked at him with her steady dark eyes. Though he loved her deeply, she did scare him sometimes. As lovely as she was, she could be incredibly cruel at times, and her eyes could testify to that. He shuddered to think of the poor men and woman who stared into that eyes during an interrogation.

"What you need is to come down to earth, Magnus Bane," she said coldly. "You need to stop dreaming about sunsets and pretty lovers and clean air and remember that you are one of the most respectable lawyers in the country, with good looks and charm and a nice salary and a beautiful best friend to keep you on your toes," she winked at him and laughed. Magnus smiled.

"You're right." He said. "I just . . . everything feels odd. I know I should be pleased about the promotion –"

"You haven't actually been promoted yet," Camille said.

"Right." He nodded. "I know I should be pleased about the possible-promotion – but I just don't. For one, I don't even understand why I still have a job, after the stunt I pulled on Monday –"

"You still have a job because your boss is a cunning little imp with a small cock."

"And how would you know?" Magnus scoffed. "Also, will you stop interrupting me?"

She smirked. "Sorry, dear. Continue."

Magnus opened his mouth to continue his long overdue rant, and found himself at a lack of words. He wasn't even sure what he wanted to rant about. His career? His boss, his hours, his wages . . .

His life?

He shook his head. "Genitalia has nothing to do with politics, Camille." He said with a small smile, to which she burst into laughter.

"Genitalia has everything to do with politics, you and I both know it. Especially when Morgenstern wants his thrusting into your –"

"- If you even think of finishing that sentence, I'm catching the first flight out of this country."

Again, she smiled. "It's true, isn't it?"

"Of course not!" Magnus snapped. Naturally, the first thing on her mind was sex. Granted, it was usually the first thing on Magnus's mind, too, but it had been so long since he'd been with somebody half way decent, he'd all but forgotten how good sex could actually be. "He knows I'm good at my work. That's all there is to it. He wants me around because I'll give the firm all the attention he wants. Pathetic, materialistic little prick."

"Someone's a little bitey," Camille chided. "At least he's stupid enough to give you the job. Just . . . try not to screw it up, yes? Do try."

Magnus raised a brow. "I always try," he said, sounding surprisingly petulant. "I doubt I'll even need to. If I want to get the promotion, I have to defend one of the Lightwoods."

Camille's eyes widened. "And how, pray tell, is that easy?"

He shrugged. "He's not actually a Lightwood. He's just a kid in the wrong crowd. He's the grandson of the Head of NYPD, truth be told. Jonathon Herondale. Poor kid. All I need to do is sell that story, and boom. He's a free bitch, baby."

"Lovely choice of words," Camille muttered. "But if it's so easy, I still don't understand why you look so down."

He sighed. "I don't know."

"No?"

"No." He paused, unsure of his own thoughts, before he continued. "I just feel like . . . like this really isn't me. I want to do something else."

Camille frowned. "Like . . . ?"

"I don't know," he said again. Camille stared at him for a long, long time, but said nothing. Perhaps she didn't know what to say – most likely she knew that at this moment, there was nothing to say. He could see her now, in the corner of his eye, reading his face for emotions, taking mental snapshots, noting down everything. Another diagnoses, another puzzle, another hopeless person who needed her help. He hoped his problems challenged her the way she loved to be challenged. They were certainly giving him difficulty.

"It's Wednesday," she murmured after a while, her accent sounding thicker than usual. Magnus looked up. "Excuse me?"

"It's Wednesday," she repeated. "I have work tomorrow. So do you. We shouldn't have done this. Clubbing on weekdays is not a good idea. When will I ever learn?" She smiled to herself, and then picked up her bag and headed for the door. Before she left, she turned around to face her friend.

"We've been friends for years," she said. "I want you to listen to me. Do what you must to refresh yourself. Manicure, pedicure, facial, massage, a holiday – anything. But don't throw away what you have on a whim. You're impulsive, Magnus Bane. You always have been. But you need to think about what you already have." She turned on her heels and left without another word, leaving Magnus alone, in his dimly lit apparent, sitting on the couch feeling empty.

He sat there for a little longer, his eyes closed, struggling to remain conscious. He was so tired. Then again, he was always tired. But he needed a shower, and Chairman needed fed. Sighing, he hoisted himself off the loveseat and onto his feet, stumbling a bit. He opened his mouth to call for the cat, but before any sound escaped his lips, his phone went off.

"Fuck." He groaned. Digging through his pockets, he pulled out his mobile and stared at the I.D. He didn't recognise it, but he got a vague feeling that it wasn't a personal call.

He pressed the phone to his ear. "What?"

"Bane," came the familiar growl of Valentine Morgenstern. "Where are you?"

Magnus rolled his eyes. "In my apartment. Sometimes I hang out here."

"I don't particularly care where you hang out," Valentine snapped. Magnus frowned.

"What is it?" he asked, the seriousness sinking into his voice like black ink.

"The Lightwoods."

He raised a brow. "You found Jonathon? You actually found him?"

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. Then, awkwardly, "No, not exactly."

Magnus scoffed. "Of course not."

"We got something even better."

"Oh?"

"Mayrse and Robert's actual son. "

When Magnus arrived at the Police Department, it was utter chaos. Men and women crowded the small office spaces, whispering anxiously about the boy in custody right this minute, desperate to suck up every ounce of information they could find. Pushing through the crowd of uniformed officials, Magnus felt little more than irritation and a burning disappointment. This hadn't been the break he was looking for. He wanted Jonathan, a client he could actually work with. Not the lovechild of the most wanted couple this side of the hemisphere. Alexander –or whatever the boy's name was – was a lost cause, even to him.

Despite all this, he still felt a twing of excitement deep down. Jonathan or no Jonathan – it was still a Lightwood he was about to meet, and he wanted nothing more than to experience this family, even if only for a while.

Valentine stood in the corner of the office, conversing with an older woman, and when he caught

sight of Magnus, he scowled and made his way towards him.

"Bane," he said grimly. Magnus smiled.

"Sir," he replied cheerfully. "Do you wish to explain why you're wasting my time with this? I was told specifically that I would be defending the Herondale. Not the fucking Lightwood child. This is an insult to injury, you realize that?"

Morgenstern groaned, nodding bleakly. The older woman he had been speaking to moments ago approached them. With a start, Magnus realized who it was.

"Imogen." He said faintly. It hadn't been long since he'd last seen her –last month, maybe – and he was startled by how unrecognisable she looked. Her skin was pale and oily, her hair had gone slightly greyer, and she'd obviously lost weight.

She looks like a mother, grieving over her lost child, Magnus thought solemnly. His relationship with Imogen Herondale was strained at best. It wasn't personal, but their positions made them natural opponents. He couldn't blame her; he had made a profession out of discrediting and discounting the work she put so much effort into, freeing the monsters she had spent so much time trying to catch. And yet, despite the resentment between them, looking at her now, he felt nothing but sympathy for her. Sympathy, and a deep admiration for her strength and courage.

Imogen smiled humourlessly, the pain evident in her eyes. "Hello, Magnus. Here to save the day?"

"I was. But I doubt there's anything I can do. Unless you want me to get Lightwood off the hook?"

The Herondale woman stared at him coldly, and he smiled. "I suppose not."

"Bane," Valentine said again. "Obviously this hasn't gone entirely according to plan, but we wanted you to be involved in this case, because Imogen still requests you as her grandson's attorney."

Magnus bowed. "Of course. Show me to my defendant and I'll – oh wait." He rolled his eyes, and then cringed as he caught Imogen's death glare. "I mean no disrespect," he said hastily. "But until you find Jonathan, there's really nothing I can do to help. Have you interrogated him yet?"

Imogen shook her head. "Not yet. I was just about to before you arrived."

"Has he said anything?"

"Not a word. He's requested a lawyer, but other than that, it seems like he's trying the 'quiet one' routine. I've seen it before, and usually it just takes the 'Good Cop, Bad Cop" act before they started telling all. The officer in charge of the stake out informed us that, according to my grandson, the entire deal was Alexander Lightwood's idea."

"Deal?" Magnus repeated.

"The – the drug deal." Imogen said, stuttering slightly. She sounded awkward and uncomfortable, as if embarrassed that her grandson had been even remotely involved in it. For as long as he could remember, the Herondale woman had always been proud.

Valentine cleared his throat loudly, making Magnus's jaw clench. The man couldn't make the situation more obnoxious if he tried. Sometimes Magnus swore he was trying. " suspect. Are we –"

"They're not a suspect if we know they're guilty, Mr Morgenstern," Herondale said bitterly. Her eyes were cold and distant, miles away from the mess they were facing now. "That boy in there is an accessory to drug trafficking, kidnapping, and at the very least he can be done for possession. He 's refused to assist the police in locating Jonathan, so his failure to cooperate also comes into play." She sighed, looking exhausted. "Come on. We've kept him waiting in the interrogation room for about an hour." Perhaps he was mistaken, but Magnus could have swore he heard some amusement in her tone.

Herondale led the men through a door and down a long hall. As she walked, Valentine filled Magnus in on the smaller details – Alexander had been spotted with a blonde haired boy, who had escaped. The Lightwood had requested a lawyer, but, as far as they were aware, couldn't afford one. Other than that, he hadn't said a single word the entire time. "Imogen's right; he doesn't need to say a word for us to know he's guilty," Morgenstern snorted. "Kid's an open book."

"I should have brought Camille with me then," he laughed, despite the blank stare his boss gave him in reply.

The followed Herondale into a room, one Magnus was fairly acquainted with. Unlike every crime drama sitcom he had ever seen, ever, this observation room was boring and dull. A small, quaint room with dirty grey tiles and brown walls, with a large window on the far wall, exposing another similar room – interrogation - where the suspect was being kept. In the interrogation room, he saw the suspect – a tall, lanky boy – resting his head against the cold metallic table. Magnus couldn't see his face.

"Wish me luck, will you?" Imogen said with a smirk, before leaving the two men, stepping through into the interrogation room.

Magnus craned his neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive Lightwood boy. More than anything, he wanted to know what he was like. Would he be violent? Cooperative?Quiet, loud, aggressive, calm, cowardly?

The possibilities where endless.

"You probably know how this works," a technician whispered to Magnus. "We can see him, but he can't see us. We use recording devices, so we can hear their discussion and use it, should we need to." The girl lowered her voice. "Somehow I doubt we will. That boy . . . he doesn't seem like a very talkative person."

She wasn't exaggerating. When Imogen slammed the door closed, Lightwood's head shot up. Crossing his arms and craning his neck to see the boy better, Magnus was surprised by his appearance. He had, to be honest, expected someone more . . . dangerous. The boy in front of him looked anything but that.

The Lightwood was tall, taller than most boys at his age, which must have been about nineteen. He was fit, but not dramatically so, and his height made him body look wiry and awkward. Strangely enough, Magnus found the unnaturalness of the boy's figure to contain a sort of elegance. Perhaps it had something to do with his dark, pale complexion, coupled with that messy black hair and those stunning blue eyes. Magnus was quickly taken aback. He didn't look like a junkie, let alone the son of America's Most Wanted. He looked . . . actually, he looked rather pretty.

The boy's eyes widened with fear when Imogen approached him. She said nothing, but the boy's hand reached up to his cheek, cringing.

"Oh, did that hurt, did it?" Imogen said with cruel humour. Magnus frowned. Had she struck him? Depending on the situation, it could be excused as an accident, or as self defence, but looking at the boy now, it was difficult to imagine him doing anything remotely harmful. He looked delicate and fragile; like one wrong word could break him into a thousand pieces.

Magnus blinked, his frown deepening. Since when did he fawn over pretty boys like some easily amused teenage girl? He shook his head, and focused his attention on the conversation, not the faint flush of red against Alexander's cheekbones.

"What's wrong?" Imogen snapped. "Don't feel like talking?"

Alexander's throat bobbed as he swallowed, but he said nothing. His eyes fluttered downwards, avoiding her eyes.

Imogen busied herself by sorting paperwork out on the table, slamming each file onto the table with enough force to make the boy flinch.

"Do you know what these are?" she asked softly, after she had finished laying them out. Magnus couldn't see them, but he assumed the papers were all related to Lightwood family incidents, or Jonathan's life before his disappearance. Magnus knew what she was doing; trying to overwhelm the boy, to guilt him, to make him anxious enough to let something slip, something that could land him in a jail cell for a long time.

Alexander paled, biting his lip. He shook his head, as if answering a voice only he could hear. He folded his hands across his stomach self-consciously and refused to meet Herondale's eyes.

"_Look at me!" _Imogen shouted, making Magnus jump. Valentine grinned at him, and Magnus shot him a glare.

Alexander bit his lip harder, so hard Magnus noticed a puddle of blood begin to pool there, but Imogen was too infuriated to care. She grabbed the boy's hands roughly.

"You tell me what you know! Tell me everything!" She yelled.

"I don't!" Alexander cried desperately, finally finding his voice. Magnus raised his brow, feeling dubious. As beautiful as the boy was, he was obviously a very bad liar.

Imogen went quiet, still, clutching the boys hands, waiting for him to start talking again. Alexander, realizing it was his queue, gulped and continued. "I don't k-know anything about it." He said timidly.

"But you know Jonathan, don't you?"

He said nothing, but his expression gave away more than enough.

Imogen laughed. "Well, it's obvious you know him. He accompanied you with the deal, didn't he? Or did you force him?"

"I- I didn't _force _him . . ."

"Did he force you?"

He blinked. "N-no. I – he . . . I d-didn't . . ." Alexander moaned, ducking his head in frustration. Magnus felt himself beginning to smile. So, the Lightwood had a stutter. How ridiculously unbelievably, incredibly . . . cute.

Alexander sighed, calming himself. "He came with me. I asked him to."

"Why did you ask him, Alexander?" Imogen asked.

"I just . . . I asked him." He looked up hopefully. "I don't know what else to tell you."

Imogen considered this for a moment, calculating her next move in a way so similar to Camille that, for a moment, Magnus could have almost called them alike.

"Ok," she started. "Answer me this. Give me one, just _one _good reason why you didn't come forward. See, I know you knew who Jonathan was. You admitted it. You know he's my grandson, which means you know he was taken from me. And if you knew this, why didn't you say anything?"

Alexander paled, and swallowed hard. "I . . . I don't . . ."

"Don't what?"

He said nothing. Magnus watched with interest as the boy sat, frigid and still as stone, his head bowed so as to avoid Herondale's wrath. After what seemed like an eternity, he seemed to muster up some courage, and looked up.

"What else would you expect from a Lightwood?"

That did it. Imogen, despite all her usual restraint, seemed to lose it. She pulled the chair out from under the boy's legs and he fell with a yelp. Imogen began kicking at him furiously, screaming and cursing at him with an almost animalistic ferocity. Before he quite understood what he was doing, Magnus seized the door handle and wrenched it open, throwing himself into the interrogation room and making a wild grab for Imogen, pulling her away from the boy before she actually did some damage.

He was followed by Morgenstern and a few other supervisors, all looking horrified and amazed by Imogen's lack of control. "Imogen," he murmured into her ear, quiet and soft enough to go unnoticed by the others. "You need to stop."

Herondale seemed to be near hysterics, but she didn't cry. She never cried.

Ignoring the offers of support from her co-workers, she left the room to regain her breath, leading the others out with her like a shepherd leads cattle, leaving Magnus alone with the boy.

He was still on the floor, leaning on his elbows, white as a sheet and staring at the place were Imogen had been kicking at him moments before.

Magnus smiled. "Are you alright?"

Alexander looked over to Magnus, seeing straight through him, and blinked. He looked somewhat confused. "I . . . I'm fine." He got to his feet effortlessly and almost gracefully, but seemed to sit down with the usual awkwardness of a teenage boy. Magnus studied the boy thoughtfully, and then, taken by a whim, he had made up his mind.

He darted out into the observation room, shutting the door behind him. It was empty aside from Morgenstern and the young technician he had spoken to before.

At the sight of Magnus, Valentine looked up. "Come on. We might as well go. This was a waste of time anyway."

"I want to speak to him." Magnus said.

Morgenstern looked taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"Lightwood. I want to have a word with him about what just happened, and, who knows? Maybe he'll be more comfortable talking to a gorgeous and charismatic me than, uh . . . Imogen."

His boss groaned. "No. Dear God, no. No, no, no. I don't think an idea has screamed 'no' to me more than that time you wanted to stage a musical number in a court session."

Magnus grinned. "But you let me do that, too."

"I didn't _let _you do anything, Bane, _you did it anyway!_"

His grin only broadened. He shot a wink at the girl operating the camera and laughed. "Precisely. Either you let me talk to him or I ignore you and talk to him anyway."

Morgenstern opened his mouth in outrage, and then, realizing the inevitable dead end he'd ran face first into, shut it. "Fine." He snapped. "Do whatever. Just . . . get _something _out of him."

Magnus nodded. "I will. But . . . "he trailed off, unsure how to proceed. "No recordings. At all. Turn off all the cameras. It's completely private."

Even the girl, who had remained more or less silent during the whole conversation, looked up.

Valentine growled. "No fucking way, Bane, no way in _hell _would I let you do that."

"I don't even think I'm _allowed _to do that," the girl said quietly.

"Exactly. You're not going to risk Maia's job just to get some alone time flirting with the stuttering jailbait, are you?"

Magnus scoffed. In all fairness, he was interested in the boy; but it ran deeper than just physical attraction. There was something so absurdly beautiful about him, his presence, the manner of his voice, the calm blue of his eyes. Everything about him inspired innocence and wonder. Magnus had never seen anyone quite like him in his life.

"I won't be risking her job," Magnus said. "_Because_, I'm interested in taking him up as a client."

If Morgenstern had been drinking at this point, Magnus had no doubt that he'd have spit it back out.

"You're not serious?" he demanded.

"I could be. But, of course, I could also want 'some alone time flirting with the stuttering jailbait'. As far as I'm aware, I'm allowed to question possible client before I take up a case, right? If I say I'm his lawyer, perhaps he'll be more open."

"You can't lie to him!" Valentine exclaimed.

_Maybe I'm not lying_, Magnus thought. "That's why there wouldn't be any cameras. Either way, I doubt I'll do that. Honestly, is it so difficult to trust me?"

"Absolutely," he agreed. He closed his eyes and frowned deeply before continuing. "You have ten minutes. _Ten_.God. We could all get into some serious trouble over this. I hope you know that. Honestly, I don't even know why I'm helping you."

Magnus smiled pleasantly. "Because deep down, sir, you're actually a half way decent person." He ducked back into the room before Valentine could fire him.

Alec closed his eyes and lay his head down against his arms, struggling to get his heart rate back to normal. Panic was something he was used to. He had built his life around the knowledge that he would always fall victim to panic, and knew, as well as he could, how to control it. Whenever he felt the beginnings of a panic attack, he knew how to deal with it.

But this was something different.

God, _God _this was something different. There was something sitting under his Adam's apple, making it difficult to breathe. _Ok_. He thought. _Deep breaths. Let's be rational about this._

So. Good news – Jace was safe. Or, at least, he wasn't in any serious trouble just yet. Alec nodded, feeling vaguely comforted by the notion. Jace was probably working to get him out right now. It was only a matter of time. All he needed to do was not say a word - something he was used to.

Bad news; Imogen Herondale was out for his blood. In fact, Alec had a horrible feeling that she was, in fact, _out for his blood_. It would explain the complete lack of hesitation he saw when she attempted to kick him to death. In a way, he couldn't blame her. Not really. Jace_was _her grandson – she missed him.

_Maybe I did do the wrong thing, not coming forward. _The thought stung.

Jace . . . Jace was _happy_, he reasoned. When they had first met, Jace was arrogant and loud and reckless – nothing had changed. His meeting with the Lightwoods hadn't affected him in the slightest; if anything ,Jace had been _happier, _spending time with Alec. How was that bad?

He shook his head. Best not to think too much. The only thing he could do right now was focus on _not panicking. _He took a deep breath; his side was aching from the Herondale woman's kick. There was bound to be a bruise there by tomorrow. The back of his head was killing him, but he refused to show it. Lightwoods were stronger than that.

He could hear voices outside the Interrogation room; both male, one louder and angrier than the other. They were probably debating what they were going to do with him; which cell would be most fitting for a criminal of his standard – because that's what he was now: a criminal. That's what Imogen thought, that's what her department thought, that's what the whole God damn _country _thought. The only person who had shown him any kindness in the last few hours was probably gone. He thought about it. He thought about the strange man, pulling Imogen off him, asking him if he was hurt. He wondered why he'd bothered to ask. It wasn't as if he _cared_. Alec hadn't cared about him, not as much as he should have. He didn't even know what he looked like.

Outside the room, the conversation between the two strangers was continuing. Alec hadn't bothered to listen to most of it, but the last few words he caught without intending to.

"Because deep down, sir, you're actually a half way decent person."

Before Alec could question this, the door reopened, and the same strange man from before stepped in, grimacing as he shut the door, the shouts and curses of the other man still wholly audible through the thick metal frame. Alec gaped at him, acknowledging his appearance for the first time.

He had to be the most unusual man Alec had ever seen. Extremely tall, with caramel coloured skin and dark hair. He couldn't have been old – maybe twenty five, perhaps even a little younger, but at the same time, he had an air of wisdom and maturity about him, something beyond his years and a little unnatural. Though, that was nothing in comparison to his appearance.

Glitter was everywhere – _everywhere. _Alec had never seen that many bright colours on a grown man before, and yet somehow he managed to pull it off. He was wearing a silky red shirt under some sort of jet black, designer blazer. Well, it _looked _designer, but then again, everything he wore seemed to be. His entire person seemed to be a combination of glitter, leather and sex. Skin tight leather pants, bright red leather boots; it was as if he'd just walked out an underground strip club. His hair was spiked up dangerously, donned in neon colours and even more glitter. His eyes were rimmed in black eyeliner, his eye shadow only a little smudged.

The most curious thing about him was the man's eyes. They were luminous, almost feline in their shape; a stunning yellowy green, but they seemed to shimmer and change in the light.

He's nice, Alec thought, blushing a little. He's nice to look at.

The man grinned, flaunting perfect white teeth ."Sorry for that," he said cheerfully. "My employer isn't a late night person. Or a morning person, actually. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if I found out he was a demon or something. A goblin, maybe – some sort of alien parasite . . . ."

Alec said nothing. He couldn't find the right words.

"Either way, I wanted to talk to you. I am _very_ sorry about Agent Herondale's behaviour, by the way. That was extremely unprofessional of her, and very out of character," he sat down on the chair Imogen had been sitting on, lowering his voice. "In case your wondering, this isn't being recorded. It's just the two of us, I promise.  
"Now, I might be wrong, but I'm under the impression you were struck earlier today?"

Alec swallowed, lowering his eyes. He wanted to reply, but his throat was two tight for words, and he _couldn't _risk breaking down in front of this stranger. He couldn't risk giving anything away; the wrong reaction to a question could mean Jace's capture. And he would never forgive himself if he let that happen to his best friend.

"That looks uncomfortable," the man said, gesturing to the angry red splotch on Alec's cheek where Imogen had slapped him. "Listen, if any member of the Police Department has harmed you in any way, that's a violation of your rights. You understand?"

He nodded, biting his lip cautiously. What was this guy playing at?

"So," he continued. "If someone in this department has violated your rights – which Imogen has - you have a right to defend them – you're rights, I mean. That's why I'm here."

Alec frowned. Did this stranger actually intend to _help _him? Why?

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice barely reaching a whisper.

The man laughed. He had a nice laugh. Friendly, warm. It sounded like summer, years ago when the Lightwood's were just another happy, harmless family. It made him feel safer. "Right. Names would be good. I am the one and only, the magnificent Magnus Bane. I'm a Defence Attorney, I'm an Attorney who defends." He winked.

Alec felt the corners of his mouth lift slightly. "Oh." He wanted to say more, but he was a loss. Or maybe he was just distracted by how _shiny_ this Magnus Bane was.

Magnus smiled. "And you're Alexander Lightwood, right?"

"Right."

"Alex-ann-der or Alex-ahn-der?"

Alec's eyes notted together. "I, um . . . I never really thought about it. Different pronounciations, I guess. Um, an-anything is fine. I don't m-mind."

Magnus chuckled. "Honestly, I prefer the latter. It's just so sensual when you think about it. Alex-_ahhh_n-der."

Alec blushed scarlet. No doubt he would never be able to hear his name the same way again. "I, um, well I don't . . . I n-never, uh, you . . ." he cringed and ducked God, best to just quit while he was ahead. "Sorry."

"Don't mention it," Bane said, flipping his hand indifferently. "That was inappropriate on my behalf."

He placed his hands together in front of him and leaned in, his eyes locked on Alec's, the casual joking between them quickly melting away. Alec felt his skin crawl and his arms wrapped around his stomach out of nervous habbit. It didn't matter how kind or funny or charming Magnus was being around him; he hated attention. Bad and good.

"You understand that you're in a lot of trouble, don't you?" Magnus said quietly.

"Yes."

"You understand that your failure to communicate with the police is only making things worse?"

"Yes."

"You understand that if you have any hopes of getting out of this mess, you have to help me help you, right?"

Alec swallowed back a moan. "I . . . I know that. Yes."

Magnus Bane paused, his eyes searching Alec's composure for any weak spots. "The thing is, you seem like a nice guy. I don't want to see you go to prison. If you're protecting someone – your parents, your friends, any girlfriends – "

"No girlfriends," Alec said, quicker than he should have. Damn it.

Magnus frowned. "Okay. Well, listen to me. You have to start talking. This is your only hope, Alex. I'm your only hope to walk away fr –"

Alec started to laugh. Quietly, but genuinely. His laughter only increased when he caught the incredulous look on Magnus' face.

"I . . . " Magnus began. "I don't get the joke."

"You called me Alex," he giggled. "I can't remember the last time anybody called me _Alex_."

Magnus smirked, bemused. "Don't most Alexanders like to be called Alex?" he asked.

"I guess," Alec replied. "I . . . you can call me Alec. If you want. You don't have to, though."

Magnus shook his head, grinning. Magnus Bane seemed to smile a lot, Alec realised. That was good though; he had a nice smile.

"Alec. That's a nice name. Better than Alex. But, in all seriousness, we really need to talk about what's going to happen to you. Now, there are things we can do, I can –"

The door burst open. Alec gasped, and Magnus stood up instantly, as Imogen Herondale stormed into the room, looking furious beyond words.

"You spineless bastard." She spat at the Attorney. "You think you can just waltz in here _without my leave_, interrogate one of _my _suspects without recording devices or cameras, like you own the place. I could have you prosecuted. Give me a reason or I will."

Magnus Bane moaned with irritating, tilting his neck back wearily. "Imogen, I was just comforting the kid you tried to kick to death. The valuable suspect, remember?"

Alec frowned. Magnus was a lot more confident than he was. No way in hell could Alec ever talk to someone like Herondale like that.

Imogen rolled her eyes. "Spare me your bullshit for another day, Bane. You don't need to switch the cameras off to comfort someone." She paused, and then her eyes grew wide. "Wait . . . just what kind of comforting were you doing, exactly?"

Magnus laughed; Alec blushed. "Relax. We all have our fetishes – fortunately for you, fucking prime suspects in interrogations rooms isn't one of mine. I prefer raves, to be honest." He spared a moment to twist his torso in Alec's direction and wink at him. Alec grimanced, feeling humiliated.

"I'm getting extremely bored, Bane. In fact, your time's up. You can come with me willingly, or –"

"Actually, dearest, my time isn't up at all." Magnus replied cheerfully. "Tell Morgenstern he was wrong – this wasn't a waste of time at all. I just found my new client."

The man who must have been Morgenstern, hiding just behind the door, burst in. "Bane, you can't be serious – you said you wouldn't!"

"I said I _probably _wouldn't. Not once did I say I wouldn't. You said our Alexander here had requested a lawyer – lo and behold, here I am."

"B-but - !" Morgenster was a stuttering mess. "Lightwood can't pay!"

Magnus turned around to face Alec. He smiled kindly at him. "Can you, Alec?"

Alec felt his hands begin to shake. "I . . . no. No I can't p-pay." It wasn't a complete lie. His parents were rich with blood money – the wealth they had aquired through all their years of drug trafficking. But he didn't want to risk accessing his families bank account, or their phones, or their emails. Any contact with them could be traced back, and he couldn't put them in danger. He couldn't.

"Well then, that's settled." Morgenstern said simply, rubbing his hands together anxiously. "He can't pay, so you can't work the case. I'm so sorry about this, Imogen. I'm sure my company can, uh, offer you compensasion for this . . . _traumatic_ experience." Alec caught Magnus rolling his eyes from the mirrors reflection.

"Contrary to what you may think of me, sir, I'm not a complete idiot. I'm more than willing to count Alexander Lightwood as a pro bono case. Money isn't an issue, sir – consider this good practise. Probabtion, if you will."

Imogen scoffed. "Really, Bane? You would do all of this for a pretty face?"

Magnus brightened. "Always."

She rolled her eyes. "I doubt he'll be very pretty after a few nights in our cells." She craned her neck to glare at him. "You'll be meeting some of your parent's less than satisfied customers," she sneered.

Magnus stepped in front of Alec, blocking Imogen's gaze. He looked down at the table, feeling sick. He wanted this to be over. He didn't care what happened. He just wanted to be alone.

"Mr Lightwood will sadly _not _be staying long. I'm bailing him out."

Alec's head snapped up at that. _What_?

Imogen's draw dropped. "_Excuse _me?"

"You heard me," Magnus said sharply. "I'm bailing him out."

"You can't bail out a criminal of his standard!" Herondale's voice was growing higher with anger.

"I think you'll find I can. If I'm his lawyer, he can stay with me. House arrest, completely. He doesn't leave the apartment. If you want, you can have patrol units outside, watching. Do what you must. I'm not letting a nineteen year old boy sleep in a prison cell tonight."

Imogen Herondale's eyes went cold. "You act as if you're not a child yourself. You think you've seen everything? You think you're a man at twenty five? Please. You're a babe."

"I don't think a babe would wear this much glitter," Magnus said sheepishly. _My God_, Alec thought. _He's almost as bad as Jace. _The thought of Jace sent another wave of sadness through him. _I wish you were here._

The man Magnus called Morgenstern was going purple. "We – we aren't _discussing this_. I should never have mentioned this to you. Honestly, I thought maybe you could _help_, I don't know what I was –"

"Magnus," Imogen said suddenly. There was something strange about her voice. She sounded . . . calculative. It made Alec uneasy. "A word, if you will. Valentine, watch over Lightwood."

Magnus glanced at Alec one last time before he left. The protectiveness in his eyes was relieving; it was also confusing. Alec had no idea what was going on. Why the hell would Magnus go to such lengths to help him? Accepting him as a client was one thing, but _bailing him out of jail_? Alec felt nervous. There had to be a catch. What if he was some sort of secret serial killer? Or a rapist, or . . .

He was vaguely aware of Morgenstern, watching him from the corner of the room, looking a little overwhelmed. Alec felt the tiniest surge of sympathy for him; it had been a long day for both of them. Alec stared at his hands in his lap, feeling uncomfortable. He wondered what Imogen wanted to talk about.

Less than five minutes later, Magnus appeared. He was grinning, but he also looked worried. That made Alec feel even worse. From what he could tell, Magnus Bane was a walking destressalizer. Seeing him nervous was probably not a good sign.

"You're out," Magnus said happily. Alec gaped at him.

"Really?"

"Would I lie?" he raised his eyebrows pointedly. Alec almost flew out of his chair.  
"T-thank you . . . wow . . ."

"Don't mention it."

It took longer than he thought it would to get out of the station. Of course, Magnus had to fill out paperwork, for the taking up of a new client, and the house arrest, and the bail. It was all a bit of a blur to Alec, who was still shocked to even be out of the interrogation room, but he destinctly remember the astronomical amount of documents he had to sign. When they finally stepped out of the station, about an hour later, it felt like heaven.

"Thank you," Alec said for the upteenth time, walking besides Magnus through the city streets. He knew that there was about three officers trailing after them, well out of sight, but it didn't trouble him too much. He wasn't planning to escape just yet. He wasn't that stupid.

"I told you, it's fine. I couldn't just leave you to get assaulted by Imogen again."

Alec smiled shyly. "It didn't hurt too much," he lied.

Magnus laughed, "If you have any desire to survive the trial you'll be attending soon, you'd better start feeling the agonizing pain, understand?"

He nodded. "Right."

They trailed on in silence for a few minutes, before curiousity got the better of him. "What did Detective Herondale say? W-when she called you out? I mean, i-if you don't mind me asking."

Magnus didn't reply, but set his gaze straight ahead. Alec was sure he was going to ignore him, when finally he said "I would tell you, but you won't like the answer."

Alec frowned. "I really want to know."

"I don't think you do. Maybe I should lie to you."

"You're my Attorney," Alec said stubbornly. "You can't lie to me."

Magnus laughed humourlessly. "Darling, you'd be surprised. I'm a lawyer. Lying is my job."

"Please tell me."

Magnus looked at him steadily. For once, Alec returned the gaze without discomfort.

"No." Magnus said finally. "I'm sorry, Alec. But I can't tell you."

Alec looked down petulantly. He stuffed his hands into his jeans, feeling more alone than he had ever felt in his life. He was sure who he wanted more; Jace or Isabelle. Or maybe it was his mother he wanted, the mother who should have stuck by him all these years but didn't.

He sighed quietly to himself. These were going to be some very long months.

**(A/N – LE GASP! Don't worry, you'll find out Magnus' dirty little secret soon enough – hopefully if my fucking computer doesn't explode again -_- **

**Can I just say that, while I have put a lot of effort into making this as realistic as possible, the fact remains that I'm actually just a teenage fangirl with a blog and a thing for gay characters. So, yeah, don't expect flawlessness, just saying.**

**Also, just you have any questions for me, you can ask me on my tumblr, which I will always answer. I'm "**_**alxndrr" **_**so if I haven't updated in a while, message me there and I can fill you in :3**

**Reviews and ratings are always appreciated, and they gaurentee quicker updates – except I will definitely be updating sooner than this chapter, I promise. Will also feature some Jace and Alec brotp and another character who I recently starting loving :D)**


	4. Revelations

**(A/N – THIS CHAPTER MADE ME SO ANGRY UGHHHH**

**I didn't update as soon as I would have liked because I had to rewrite this chapter a thousand fucking times, and it STILL sucks. Seriously, it's a disorganized mess. I apologize. **

**I'm gonna start doing some flashbacks, because I can't throw myself into the sexy malec smut just yet, so I'm gonna fill some time in by describing Alec and Jace's relationship. I've thought up some back stories which I quite like, because I love emotionally crippling character's and writing my way through their issues (hint – I really like traumatizing Jace. Just saying.) One of the issues will be Magnus's secret from the last chapter, by the way. *wink wink* I'm also introducing another character who I've recently TOTALLY fallen in love with. Like, they're perfect. They'll be in this chapter.**

**Anyway, yeah. This chapter is bad. I tried to explain what happened to Jace after Alec's arrest, and it pretty much switches through POVs and different points in the story. Just keep in mind that this chapter is all over the place and probably confusing as fuck, but this will be the only chapter that writes like this. Next one will be normal.**

**Try to enjoy reading this, because I really, really, REALLY hated writing it. Ugh. )**

_9 Years Previously – Jace's POV_

_He's so oblivious._

_Keeping to the shadows, Jonathan watched as the dark haired boy approached, completely unaware of the danger he was in._

_He wasn't much older than Jonathan, which made the situation even more astounding. What was a ten year old doing in an alleyway at night? Was he looking to get killed?_

_Watching curiously, Jonathan's eyes went wide as the other boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a mobile. _Wow_, he thought idly. He would have done anything to get a cellphone like that. He remember a few years back, spending a month tirelessly slaving over his parents, washing their cars and doing the dishes and cleaning up the house they shared when they were still a family – all of it just to prove he was responsible enough to own a mobile. Stephen, his father, wasn't completely against the idea ("What if there's an emergency?" he had asked. "Celine, honey, he's a good kid. He's been asking for months ."), but his mother's refusal was adamant ("Stephen, we barely have enough to pay the bills. He's only eight. He can wait until he's older.")._

_That was a long time ago, by all accounts. He was two years older, and now he didn't need a phone. He didn't need anything._

_Although, the thought was tempting . . ._

_The boy with the dark hair was pressing buttons frantically, leaning on one foot and then switching to the other. He pressed the phone to his ear and waited. He looked scared, and lonely. Sort of how Jonathan had felt at first._

"_Pick up, pick up, _please_ . . ." _

_He voice on the other side of the line was audible even to Jace, pressed up against the wall, invisible like a ghost. _Maybe that's what I am now, _he thought. _A ghost.

"_Alec, darling, where are you?" a woman asked from the phone.A pang of hate went shot through his system like static. She sounded so . . . motherly._

"_I . . . I don't know," the boy said, looking around. "It's dark. Somewhere in the city though. An alleyway. I think I can hear traffic. Does that help?" he asked hopefully. Jonathan smirked. He sounded like every goody-good kid he'd ever hated in was going to be more fun than he had previously thought._

"_Very good, love," the voice said tenderly. Jonathan's hands curled into a fist. "Try and follow the sound."_

"_Mum?" the boy named Alec said, his voiced strained and whiny. Jonathan disliked him already. "Are you and Dad okay? And Isabelle?"_

"_We're all fine; Isabelle told me how brave you were, getting your sister to safety like that. I'm very proud of you."_

_In the darkness, the boy grimaced. "I should have kept a better eye on her. I'm sorry."_

_The woman on the other side laughed. "It's alright, sweetheart. Just follow the sound. When you find a street, tell me the address and I'll come find you."_

"_Okay." Alec paused. "Love you."_

_The line was silent, followed by a short click, ending the conversation. The dark haired boy's brow furrowed with sadness._

_Now was the best time, Jonathan thought. Readying himself, he braced his hands against the wall, about to attack. Some of the brick under his fingers crumbled, sprinkling across the lid of a trash can. The pittering-patter sound was almost impossible to hear, but, to Jonathan's disbelief, the other boy spun around._

Now_. Jonathan flung himself off the wall, tackling the other boy and tightening his grip on the Swiss Army Knife he had stolen from his grandmother, Imogen._

_Alec let out a cry and stumbled, his eyes ridiculously wide. He looked like one of the clay dolls little girls liked to play with – useless, harmless and very easy to break._

_Jonathan straddled the boy, holding the boy's arms down with one arm, though not without difficulty. He was use to being outmatched, strength-wise. Usually, the people he attacked were much older than him, and stronger – usually drunk or high or scary looking. Nonetheless, he hadn't expected this boy to be so strong._

"_Get off me!" The boy screamed, kicking at Jonathan viciously. Jonathan cried out with pain and struck the other boy with the back of the knife. _

"_Stop moving and I will!" Jonathan shouted. The boy ceased fighting immediately, his hands shooting out in an act of surrender, but Jonathan didn't move. "I need money. Yours."_

_Alec looked at him, outraged. "I don't have any money!" he snapped._

"_You have a phone."_

"_My parent's brought it."_

"_Well, I want it."_

_Without warning, the boy kicked out violently, sending Jonathan rolling off him, the Swiss Army knife tumbling from his grasp. He cursed and, barring his teeth like an animal, reached for the knife._

_To his dismay, he saw it glittering in the hands of the other boy. Jonathan stood up, humiliated. "I don't even need it." He said petulantly._

"_And I don't need this." Alec threw the phone and Jonathan, who caught it, gaping stupidly. "You – you're giving it to me? Really?"_

"_I guess." _

_Jonathan looked down, feeling suddenly guilty. This was a first. He usually didn't have any remorse, robbing people in the night. Although, saying that, people rarely _gave_ him their possessions after beating him in a fight. "I'm sorry I hurt you." He muttered._

"_You didn't hurt me." Alec looked at him, frowning a bit. "What's your name? I don't think you should be out here by yourself."_

"_You're out by yourself!" Jonathan snapped. _

"_I'm not supposed to be out here, either. But you must only be ten."_

_Jonathan shook his head, suddenly annoyed. "Because you must be _so much _older," he said sarcastically. "You must be ten, too."_

_The boy looked quietly insulted. "I'm eleven and a half, _actually. _But back to the point. What are you doing here? Why are you stealing from people? Are you a criminal?"_

_He yearned desperately for the knife. "I am _not_ a criminal."_

_Alec looked down, his cheeks going red, obvious even in the dark. "Oh."_

_Jonathan frowned. "What about you?" he sneered. "Are _you_ a criminal?"_

_The boy with the dark hair shrugged, still avoiding his gaze. "I . . . I don't know. Maybe."_

_This was turning out to be a very unexpected night. Cautiously, Jonathan approached the boy. Alec stiffened, but he didn't seem to mind._

"_I guess I sort of am a criminal," he said comfortingly. "I'm Jonathan Herondale."_

"_Alec Lightwood."_

"_That's a cool name," Jonathan said lightly. "Well, I'm sorry about attacking you. And, uh . . . .thanks for the phone . . . . I guess." Now it was his turn to blush. "Um . . . good luck, I suppose. See you around."_

_He turned around and started off, not really knowing where he was going next. There was a shelter a few blocks down – he could spend the night there, no questions asked. If he was lucky, he could even get some breakfast in the morning._

_He heard footsteps hurrying behind him. "Wait!" Alec called out quickly. Jonathan spun around._

"_What?" he asked rudely. Alec Lightwood looked bashful._

"_Well, maybe I could come with you!" he spluttered. "I mean, you come with m-me. And when we find my parents . . . well, I won't tell them about what happened, but you c-can come get dinner with us, if you want. You-you don't have to, but . . ." he looked down. "I don't really have many friends. Any at all, to be honest."_

_Jonathan stared at him for a very long time, eyeing him suspiciously. Was this some kind of trap? It seemed like one. But, staring at the other boy now, he looked rather sad – a feeling Jonathan was all too familiar with. _I can take care of myself,_Jonathan thought angrily. _If he tries anything, I'll show him how scary a ghost can be. _Looking at Alec, he had a feeling he wouldn't need to. He started to smile._

"_I used to have lots of friends," he bragged. "I don't anymore. But I guess we could be friends, if you want."_

_Alec smiled joyously, and Jonathan found himself smiling, too._

_6:50 PM – Jace's POV_

He was losing it. Big time.

Jace kicked over a shopping trolley in a desperate panic. "Son of a _bitch!_"

This was his fault. _My fault, my own fault, my most grievous fault, _he thought_. _The words echoed through his head – familiar, but he couldn't place where he'd heard them before. It didn't matter now, anyway. All that mattered was that he had lost Alec, his brother, the only friend he had and the only person who knew him more than anything.

It was all he could do to keep walking. Don't pause, Herondale. Don't stop. Keep moving. Don't you dare let him down. Jace realized where he was. A little backstreet a few blocks away from the warehouse, completely deserted. He had been here before, years ago with his parents.

Different time, different place. He had visited this street in the summer, with the sun high in the sky, bearing down on him. A happy memory, he thought. There was nothing happy about this place now. It was cold, empty, and he had no parents to comfort him now.

_And no Alec._

He groaned at himself. _Stupid_, he thought viciously. _You stupid, pathetic fucking idiot._He had done this to Alec. It had been Jace's idea to get the drugs, and he had to drag his friend into it. And look what happened.

There was no way, no way in hell he was giving up. All he needed was _time._Time, and a place to think. He needed a plan, a strategy, something he could work with. The first thing he had to do was get out of his apartment. It wasn't an apartment so much as a dingy motel room he and Alec had rented, but there was no way he could stay there now. Even if Alec hadn't said anything – which Jace was positive he hadn't – the police still had their ways. A fact he was very aware of, what with his own blood working at the head of it all. His grandmother no doubt had the entire city out looking for him now; he couldn't even risk going back to get his things. It wasn't as if he and Alec had much to begin with. Whatever they had now was a liability. He'd taken care of his phone already, chucking it in the first dumpster he could find. His credit card would need to go, too, and he needed to change out of his clothes, fast. He had thoughtlessly considered stealing them from someone, reverting back to his days on the street before the Lightwoods, but that would only cause more trouble for him, and for Alec.

He reached a turn off and, cursing with relief, heard the roaring of a busy intersection. He broke into a sprint. All he needed was a payphone. _Come on, come on, run faster. _

He reached the intersection, cutting along a pathway, pushing past agitated men and women on their way home from work. It couldn't have been too late, he realized with a start. It wouldn't even be seven yet. The time between Alec's arrest and now seemed like an eternity.

There was a phone near a pedestrian, unused and inviting. Jace grabbed it roughly, inserted a few coins into the slot and stabbed at the numbers with callused fingers. _For God's sake_, he thought. _Pick up._

She did, on the third ring. Jace could hear the heavy droning music of the Pandemonium Club in the background. "Hey, uh, I can't really talk right now, I'm at wor-"

"_Isabelle._"

On the end of the line, Isabelle went silent. He could practically here the blood drain from her face. She knew him too well; this wasn't a social call. "Jace? What happened?"

Jace bowed his head, squeezing his eyes shut to stop the tears. _Oh God. Alec. I never even apologized to him. _"There . . . I fucked everything up, Izzy. Everything. Jesus Christ, I don't even know wha –"

"Tell. Me. What. Happened." Her voice might as well have been ice.

"It's Alec."

The music on the other line was fading out. Isabelle was probably going somewhere quieter. "What about Alec?" she asked, her voice rough, demanding. "Is he hurt?"

"I . . . I don't think so. But Izzy – he's gone."

"'Gone'?"

"He was arrested. It was _her_, she was looking for me, and Alec stayed behind so I could get out, I –"

"_And you let him?_" She shrieked.

"He made me –"

"You and I know perfectly well that nobody can make you do anything, Herondale. I can't believe this. Oh God. Oh my God."

Jace leaned his forehead on the glass panel of the phone booth. "Listen to me, Izzy. I don't have a lot of time. I'm going to fix it. He's not going to jail –"

"They'll find out he's a Lightwood!"she said, her voice nearing hysterics.

_My own most grievous fault._

"They probably already have. But I'm going to fix it," he vowed, more to appease himself than anything. "Listen, I'm going to make some more calls. I'll break him out. I _will_. Just . . . keep your head down. Don't draw attention to yourself. Nobody knows about the Lightwood daughter, and nobody needs to."

Isabelle let out a choked gasp. "I – what about Simon? Jace, please, Simon can't know! Everyone will be talking about it! Alec's face will be everywhere, and Simon _will _recognise him."

There was a long, agonizing pause. Jace dug his nails into his arm. _My fault, my own fault, my fault, my fault, my fault, my fault._ "I can't be a criminal, Jace. I can't be a freak. I just want _out_ of this life. Simon is the only person who hasn't treated me like a convict in years. I _can't lose him_."

Jace swallowed the bile in his throat. Is this what drowning felt like? The weight of his actions and their consequences was pressing down on him, dragging him down into a darkness he never wanted to revisit. _Every time, _his mind screamed at him. _You do this every single time. All you do is think about yourself, and all it does is hurt the people you love most. _

"You won't, Izzy." He whispered into the phone. He was surprised he hadn't run out of minutes yet. Rummaging around in his jeans pockets, he added a few more coins. "You won't lose either of them. I _am _going to make this better."

"How?" she asked, her voice a barely audible whisper. There was something tragic about the way her voice caught – there was no hope in her tone, no faith. She truly believed she would never see her brother again. The pain she felt only made him want to prove her wrong.

"I'm not sure. I thought maybe I could turn myself in, but that wouldn't help. They were searching for a child missing for nine years, and got a Lightwood instead. It's not like we can do a quick swap and be done with it."

He sighed. "I'm hoping at the very least I can get a message to him. I can't visit him at the station, it's too risky, and I doubt my grandmother would be very generous when it comes to phone calls."

"Tell me what I can do."

"Call your parents. They can pay to bail him out, or break him out. I just need find him, at the very least to tell him that I'm gonna fix it, and I just need to figure out _how._ I could always get somebody to deliver the message –"

He broke off, his eyes going wide. _No way_, he thought, the gears of his mind suddenly working double-time. _It couldn't possibly work. Could it?_

Under the dim light of the payphone, Jace Herondale began to smile. "Call them, Izzy. I have an idea."

"Dear God."

"Somehow I doubt God's involved. Izzy, remember what I said. Keep your head down. Stay safe."

Isabelle laughed. There was nothing but fear in the sound. "You get my brother out of this, Jace Herondale. Get my brother out of this, for your own safety."

The line went dead with an ominous click. Jace frowned, the phone still pressed to his ear, and then sprung once more into action. He added the last of his change into the slot and dialled the number. If this didn't work, his entire plan would be hopeless. _Come on, you bastard. Don't fail me now._

He didn't. The phone picked up and the familiar, accented voice answered. "Hello?"

Jace grinned. "Hello Raphael. "

The line was silent. "_You_." Raphael Santiago hissed, his voice thick with curiosity and distrust.

"Oh yes, me. Got any plans?"

A resigned sigh. "Would you care if I did?"

"You won't care about them either, when you find out what you're about to do. Dangerous, stupid, and reckless, just the way you like it."

"I think I will it even more if you add 'well paying' to the list."

"Of course. I'm nothing if not generous. I need you to help me find my brother."

"I feel this isn't a request so much as an order. Am I correct?" Raphael replied lazily, his words long and stretched out. His Spanish accent was strong and obvious, as was the menacing undertones in his voice. His relationship with Jace was friendly to an extent, but it was more of an admiration for each other's boldness, and respect for power. Jace disliked spending too much time around him – Raphael was known for double-crossing. He belonged to nobody.

"Oh? Go on."

"He's been arrested."

"How unfortunate." he gasped with mock sympathy. "I don't particularly care. I suppose you want me to bust him out?"

"Not yet," Jace said uneasily. "I just need you to tell me what state he's in. If he's ok, what they're doing to him. If you get the opportunity, send him a message. Tell him that I haven't left him, and I'm going to get him out. If there's _any _way that I could see him personally, without getting caught, you call me. You're the best person I can come to. I need you."

Raphael laughed. "Don't they all," he said with a sigh. "I suppose you Lightwoods will offer me a decent reward – this is no easy feat, you know. I'm helping you out of the sheer goodness of my heart."

Jace smirked. "Right. Just get to the Police station, find Alec Lightwood – you remember him, right?"

"Of course." Alec had always hated Raphael, and perhaps with good reason.

"Good. Find him, and call me as soon as you do. Don't do anything else until you call me. Understand?"

Raphael was laughing again. His voice was pleasant, but the darkness was apparent. "Clear as crystal. I hope you know what you're doing, Lightwood."

Jace smiled, and was thankful he couldn't see the fear on his face. "When do I ever know what I'm doing?"

_11:30 PM – Alec's POV_

_Present_

"I'm not going to poison you, you know."

Alec glanced away awkwardly, avoiding Magnus's gaze. The glittery man was staring politely down at him, the faintest hint of a smirk resting on his lips. Why is he doing this? Alec pondered. Why is he bothering, helping me out, defending me, buying me dinner? For what purpose?

He was still holding the chicken wrap Magnus had brought for him, but he might as well just throw it out. The very thought of food made his stomach twist. The only thing he wanted to do was collapse onto a pillow and sleep this disaster away.

"Sorry," he mumbled, staring at the cracks on the pavement. "I'm not very hungry."

Magnus laughed quietly. His voice ricocheted around the old buildings like music, and again, Alec felt comforted by his laugh. There was something very wonderful about him, about the way his eyes glowed like wildfire even in the dark, and how his lips shaped perfectly around every syllable. He liked the dimple just under the left corner of the crease of his mouth, and the smoothness of his skin, which reminded him vaguely of caramello chocolate, but enveloped in a shimmery haze of glitter. He liked the way his name sounded. Magnus. Magnus Bane. Magnus_._Bane._Bane. B-A-N-E –_

"You're blushing, Alexander."

With a start, Alec realized he had been staring at Magnus the entire time. He spluttered out a fretful apology, the flush of his cheeks darkening even more. This just made Magnus laugh harder. _Stop doing that_, Alec thought angrily at Magnus. _Philosophy doesn't look good on me. _Already he could hear Jace's taunts in his head. "_Really, Alec? Really?"_Alec used to spend a lot of time helping Max with his English homework, with poetry and writing, but he had to stop when Max's teacher gave him a detention for plagiarising. Even after that, they would have rhyming conversations for hours on end, but then that stopped, too.

Alec forced the train of thought to a halt before it turned ugly.

"You need to stop saying that," Magnus said, frowning. "You apologise far too haven't done anything wrong."

"I wouldn't be here if I hadn't done anything wrong." Alec replied.

"That's true." Magnus shrugged. "But you still apologise too much. It takes away its value."

"That's really insightful," Alec noted, folding his arms across his stomach.

"I'm a very insightful person, I suppose; must come with my extraordinary charm and wit." He winked at Alec, and he felt the corners of his mouth lift up.

Magnus sighed with relief. "Thank God. We're here." He pointed to a twenty storey apartment block on the corner of the street they were walking down.

"You _live _there?" It was grand, even in the darkness. Grand, huge, and handsome. Somewhere a successful businessman might live. Or at least, that's what Alec imagined.

"No, no – we're just going to break in and sleep there for the night. 'Fuck the police', right?"

The sarcasm in his tone was biting. Alec had to laugh. He sounded like Isabelle in the mornings with a hangover.

"Sor –"he broke off. "I mean, oops."

Magnus didn't reply, but he shook his head bemusedly, smiling. For a small moment, Alec wondered how he would cope if he _was _going to live with Magnus under his roof. It would be unusual to say the least. He wasn't sure if the experience would be positive or negative. He didn't like being with people for long periods of time; even with Jace, whom he lived with, but still hid from in the bathroom, just to get some space. Sometimes he found himself walking down the streets at three in the morning, just to find some privacy. Course, he couldn't do that, not under house arrest; not being one of the biggest leads to one of the biggest cases of the decade.

Although, Magnus was certainly a character. The way he dressed and held himself was so . . . flawless. He wondered if it was a show, or whether he was like that all the time. He had a sneaking suspicion that it was the latter.

He felt a pang of guilt. Despite the gratitude and . . . and whatever else he might have been feeling, he had no intention of staying longer than he needed to. A night, maybe two, three or four at best, just for the attention to die down; and then he would be gone. Worst case scenario – he used Magnus as a hostage, but he didn't want to do that. The thought made him feel a little dizzy. _Why would you even consider that?_

The more he thought about leaving, the more uneasy he felt. Was leaving even an option? Sure, it would get him out of deep water – but wouldn't the consequences of his escape be even worse?

_Just don't think about it_.

Magnus led him up the stairs of the complex, guiding him gently down the winding corridors until they reached his door. His last name was elegantly engraved in a fine golden scrawl – _Bane. _Magnus pulled a key out of his blazer and opened it without too much fuss, holding it out wide to let Alec through first. Alec stepped through the threshold, followed by Magnus, who turned the lights on, shrouding the apartment in light. "Welcome to my humble abode."

There was nothing humble about it.

It was one huge room, split into three; lounge, kitchen, dining room. Alec had only seen such complete sophistication in those annoying, plotless action movies Jace loved so much. The walls were white, completely spotless, and brought colour into the carpet, which was a soft gold (a bit like Jace's eyes, Alec thought distantly). There was a fire crackling in the hearth. Alec shivered at the warmth.

The walls were covered in vibrant, abstract paintings – minimalist, and vaguely beautiful, even though Alec wasn't normally a fan of contemporary art. The furniture was perfect and white, as was a majority of the furniture he could see – he gaped in amazement at the huge silky plasma TV in the corner. He and Jace used to have a TV – it was as big as a microwave, silent, and in black and white, and they had to get rid of it in the end when Jace threw it at Psycho Stalker Ex Girlfriend #6.

And this was just the _lounge._ There was a kitchen on the west side, all shiny and clean, concealed by a least half a dozen quirky looking pot plants. The "dining room" was next to that, even if it was only a small round table; the marble vase in the centre of the table looked like it was worth more than the entire apartment combined.

It was like an IKEA catalogue. The apartment was large, intimidating and made Alec feel vulnerable – and yet it also had the strangest sense of warmth to it. He supposed maybe it stemmed from the little things – the stains on the clear glass coffee table, the stacks of paper on the little table near the kitchen area, and the messed up DVD collection by the shelf, next to a towering bookcase, overflowing with paperbacks – well loved, by the looks of it. The books alone were incredible; all of his books were neatly stacked in a suitcase, or in the public library – he wanted to have a private library full of them like he used to, but that wasn't a possibility anymore.

"_Oh._" Alec said meekly.

"Oh?" Magnus asked.

"Oh." Alec agreed.

Magnus shuffled past Alec without a word, shrugging out of his blazer and folding it over his arm. "I suppose you want the grand tour?" he said with a smile.

In truth, Alec was desperate to have a look at the place. The architecture was astonishing, and the exterior of the house looked older than the inside, so he assumed the place had been restored at some point in time. He couldn't tell for sure how old it was, but he thought it had to be at least sixty years. It was all he could do to stop from clapping his hands and giggling like an excited toddler.

On the other hand, he was so _tired_. All he wanted to do was sleep. So, swallowing the burning curiosity in his heart, he shook his head. "Is it alright if I just go to sleep? I mean – I'll have a look if you want. I'm just really sleepy – I mean tired." He blushed at the childish word. He was a twenty year old male, Alec reminded himself harshly. He didn't get _sleepy._

Magnus nodded, smiling kindly. "Course. It's late anyway," he glanced at his wrist and gave a low whistle. "Nearly twelve. Jesus, I have work tomorrow, too." He sighed and ran a hand through his vibrant, lethal looking hair."Follow me, if you will." Gesturing for Alec to walk with him, Magnus lead Alec down a narrow hall. "I have a spare room down the hall I use for an office, and luckily for you there's a conveniently placed bed there."

Alec frowned. "Why?"

Magnus shrugged. "Sometimes I can't be bothered going to my room. Frankly, I'm the laziest person I know."

He wasn't sure if Magnus wanted him to disagree, so instead Alec said, "I think I'm the most boring person I know."

Magnus laughed. "You're a young, intelligent, good looking guy on the most wanted list – I doubt there's anything boring about you." He stopped at the end of the hall, beside an old, lonely looking door.

Alec blushed at the words '_good looking', _and shook his head."I am, really." Alec insisted. "Maybe not . . . maybe not when it comes to my, uh, my history, but I'm not interesting at all when I'm having conversations. I'm not very good at talking to people."

"You seem to be doing a good job talking to me." Magnus said, cocking a brow. Alec bit his bottom lip and didn't say anything.

"Anyway." Magnus twisted the handle and ushered Alec through. He looked around, folding his hands across his stomach.

He liked this room. It was smaller than he'd expected, which made him feel less tiny. There was a desk next to the door, dark mahogany, and it was in all fairness a cluttered mess. Important looking documents and papers and files were everywhere, even with the sturdy looking filing cabinets beside it.

Magnus groaned. "Eugh. Sorry. This place is a mess."

"It's alright." If anything, the disorganization of the room made him feel more at home. There was a single bed wedged in the corner, between yet another massive bookshelf, this one bigger than the last. "You read a lot, do you?" he asked quietly.

"Not really," Magnus admitted. "I used to. All the time; but I don't really have time anymore."

Neither said anything for a while. Alec bit the inside of his cheek, feeling awkward. He was the guest, but he really wanted Magnus to leave, so he could be alone for the first time all day.

"W-well. Thank you. Really. I-I mean, for everything."

Magnus looked at him oddly. "When was the last time anyone ever did you a favour?" he asked softly.

Alec frowned. "People do me favours all the time," He mumbled.

"Such as?"

Alec didn't reply, and Magnus smiled sadly. He turned towards the door, and then paused, glancing at the desk one last time. A shadow passed over the room, and when Magnus turned to face Alec again, his expression was anxious.

His eyes didn't meet Alec's when he spoke. "This room really is a mess. I can't let you sleep in here with all this rubbish." He spun on his heel and started rummaging around the desk, hastily grabbing at the files and cramming them ungraciously into the cabinet.

"Really, I don't mind, it's –"

"It's too messy. It would be rude." His word was final.

Alec watched for the next two minutes, frowning as Magnus all but threw the papers into the cabinet.

"Do you want any help –"

"No. It's fine, Alexander."

When the desk was clear he grabbed a key lying on the bookshelf and locked the cabinet with a tiny click, and then Alec understood.

_He doesn't trust me, _he realized. _He thinks I'll look at his work, read something I shouldn't._

Of course, it was obvious now. And he had a right to be suspicious. For all he knew, Alec was dangerous. A criminal. He had no regard for law and no moral values. He was the bad guy. Alec cringed at the dull sadness in his chest, the anger. He had no right to feel sad about it – he wasn't even sure why he did. Magnus didn't _really_ care about him – he was doing this to get information. He only took the case in the first place because the other alternative was facing Herondale's wrath. _Stupid, _Alec thought angrily. Did you really think he was doing any of this because he _liked_ you? No. You're no different to any of the other clients he's had. Stop acting like you are.

Magnus grinned sheepishly, trying to disguise the discomfort in his eyes. He almost succeeded. "I'm a perfectionist," he joked. It sent a jolt of anger through Alec. _Distrust I can live with, but don't pretend to show me kindness. _

"Ok." Even to his own ears, he could hear the bitterness in his reply. Alec bit his lip and looked down. He knew he was being unfair. Even if Magnus didn't care, he was still doing a good job pretending he did. That alone was kinder than Alec was used to. He bit his lip and looked down.

Magnus seemed a little crestfallen, but his smile remained. "I can't believe you didn't stop off at your house to get your stuff." He said, changing the subject.

_Right, because I would knowingly lead an official figure of the law to the place where my wanted best friend has been living. _"I don't really have stuff," he lied. "I – uh, I don't have a lot of time to buy things." That, at least, was true. His wardrobe was lacking in both quantity and quality; most of his outfits he had brought at least three years prior, and they all looks the same – dark, holey and worn down. With all the running and hiding they did, looking fashionable wasn't his top priority – he was under the impression that the more invisible you look, the better. He'd always thought that. Jace, on the other hand, was all about looking good. Alec had an idea that the same went for his attorney.

Magnus didn't buy it, but he was polite enough to let it be. "Tomorrow, I'll go out, and I'll get you some stuff."

Alec gulped. Judging by his outfit, Alec would sooner have his third grade science teacher pick out his clothes than Magnus Bane . "You don't have to do that." He mumbled.

"I'm not letting you wear the same clothes for your entire stay here," Magnus said, crinkling his nose. "Don't worry about it."

Alec nodded. No matter how kind Magnus was being, the last thing Alec wanted was to be moved by this stranger. That's what he was – a stranger. A stranger who was wanted to tell an open court all about Alec's family, his friends, his life; even with the best intentions, Alec couldn't let that happen.

"Anyway, get some sleep. The bathroom is three doors to the right, and I'll lay out some towels and whatnot for you in the morning. Do you want some coffee? Tea?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

Magnus nodded. "Alright. Goodnight, Alec."

"Goodnight."

Magnus turned and left without a second word. Only Alec remained, standing alone in the office, feeling more alone than he ever had before. He sat down on the end of the bed, startled that it didn't squeak. He was used to his old bed squeaking. _But this isn't your bed_, he reminded himself. _This isn't your home, either. This is house arrest. _

He took a deep, shaky breath, winding his fingers through the bed sheets. His eyes were itching, and his throat was tight. He could feel the steady build up of anxiety in the stomach, which usually led to a panic attack. He practised some breathing methods. Deep breath. Count to five. for ten. Deep breath. Count to five. Release. Something wet and warm ran down his cheek. He wiped at it desperately with one hand, the nails on his other hand digging into his thigh through his jeans.

_Stop it, _his sub-conscious screamed. _Don' not cry. You are a Lightwood. Lightwood's do not cry. _

Gently, he lessened his grip on his leg, folding his arms around his stomach for comfort, allowing himself to fall back onto the bed, to sink into the softness. He hadn't expected it to be so soft. He rolled on his side and nuzzled against the coolness of the pillow, closed his eyes and prayed for the first time in ten years.

Magnus let the door shut behind him with a small click. He stood in the centre of his bedroom, feeling strangely awkward, and frowned to himself. Allowing Alec to sleep in his study had to be one of his less amazing ideas. _What kind of fucking moron lets a wanted suspect sleep in a room full of confidential criminal records? _He thought irritably, glaring at his reflection in the mirror.

Worse still, he remembered the look of rejection on the boy's face, and actually felt _bad _about it. He didn't truly believe Alec to be a threat, but he knew that one wrong step and Imogen would have his head on a spike. _Literally, no doubt._

The name made his stomach twist. _Imogen._Her words in the observation room still echoed around in his mind.

"_I don't condone this," she had said, her voice strict and demanding attention. Magnus nodded, not unkindly._

"_I know," he'd replied. "But I –"_

"_There's no stopping you once you have an idea, is there?" For a brief moment, he could have sworn he'd seen a flicker of a smile. "But that's okay. This is a good idea."_

_He'd frowned at that. "What?"_

"_I, for one, am more than happy to allow you to accept Lightwood's case, if that's what you so wish. I don't see a problem – in fact, I see a great opportunity."_

_His heart stopped, and his lips parted. "And this 'great opportunity' would be . . .? "_

_Imogen stepped closer, her hand reaching up to his neck, winding her skeletal fingers through his hair and pulling him closer to her. She leaned into him, close enough that he had felt her breath against his ear._

"_Make sure he loses."_

"Lovely woman," he muttered to himself, repressing the urge to shudder as he undid the buttons of his dress shirt. He was beginning to understand just how dangerous Imogen Herondale could be; denying her anything at this point could result in a lot of trouble – possibly an arrest warrant with his name on it. She was competing against the Lightwoods in a violent game of chess, and Magnus Bane was the pawn.

If he failed to deliver her justice, check mate.

_This isn't justice, this is revenge. _The thought nagged at him, and he shrugged out of his shirt and began on his belt. He kept thinking of Alec, and how hurt he looked when Magnus refused to answer him, and his frown deepened. How could he tell him that? There was no way he would ever trust Magnus after that, knowing he would inevitably betray him at his weakest moment. _But you won't do that, will you? You're not going to go through with it. _

He didn't want to. But he didn't want to face the consequences of disregarding Imogen's authority again, either.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and ran his hands over his face, groaning. When did his job get so problematic? What was with him and guilt all of a sudden? First on the way to his apartment, and again when he locked all the files away.

And why should he feel sorry for that? He liked Alec well enough, but he couldn't afford to put personal feelings ahead of business – especially not with Herondale lurking around. Any trouble Magnus got into at this put would affect Alec, too.

And maybe there was wisdom in his precautions. Maybe Alec was a better liar than he let on in the interrogation room. Magnus's heart sped up as he considered it. It would make sense. He was a Lightwood, and everyone knew that Lightwood's were dangerous. And, naturally, he had to be housing one of them. There was literally nothing stopping the boy from sneaking into his room at night and murdering him in his sleep. He didn't doubt that there were police outside his apartment right now, waiting for any signs of trouble – but Alec was a bright guy. All it would take was a pillow over the mouth. Nobody would suspect a thing.

_Fucking brilliant work, as usual, Bane._

He bit his lip. He was being paranoid. He just needed to get some sleep. _Better to be paranoid and safe than rational and dead,_a voice in his head whispered.

He nodded to himself, and sat back down on the bed. He leaned over the bedside cabinet and open the bottom draw, and dug through the dozens of unread letters until he found what he was looking for – the cold, metallic touch of his revolver.

Looking at the weapon with disgust, he loaded it and set it down carefully down on the cabinet, feeling sick. He _hated _weapons. But he hated being violently murdered even more. _Better to be paranoid and safe than rational and dead._

He sighed. He needed to sleep. He could feel his eyes drooping, and his canary yellow sheets looked more inviting than ever. He finished undressing and all but collapsed onto the mattress, pulling the sheets up and flicking his bedside light off.

**************************************************************

_3:23 AM_

_3 ½ hours later_

"Remind me again how the hell you did this?" Jace asked the Mexican boy, feeling more than a little admiration. He might not trust him completely, but he knew how to get the fucking job done.

"I have friends in many places, Lightwood." Raphael replied, his voice laced in mystery. One thing Jace never got was Raphael's need to make everything sound like it was ripped directly from nineteen-thirties _Dracula. _In some ways, Raphael Santiago could almost be mistaken for a vampire himself; unnaturally pale skin (even worse than Alec's, which was _saying something_) and sunken eyes, and this vague childhood beauty which looked ridiculously creepy on a fifteen year old New York street kid.

He snorted. "Good work, Claudia."

Raphael glared – obviously he got the reference. "Excuse you." He muttered, speeding up his pace. Jace grinned.

They were in a hallway, looking this way and that for the name; _Bane_, Raphael said – the one who Alec was stuck with in house arrest.

"It's utter chaos inside," Raphael had explained on the phone to Jace, four and a half hours prior. "A woman – I believe her name was Imogen Herondale – was _particularly _violent, and from what sources tell me, a man named Magnus Bane has offered to take your brother under house arrest."

"Violent? Is he alright?" Jace exclaimed.

"I saw him briefly. He appears to be in no immediate danger now. There was a small moment during interrogation when I worried , but it was resolved peacefully enough."

"Where are you now?"

"I'm in the station. Meet me outside in fifteen minutes."

"How the hell did you manage to get inside the station?"

That was around the time when Raphael hanged up.

Whatever he did, it seemed to have work. When Jace met him thirteen and a half minutes later, Raphael appeared, looking almost unbelievably different from the kid he usually saw, donned in a complete police uniform, badge and gun included. He looked older – Jace briefly considered the possibility that witchcraft was involved. Raphael smiled at his confusion. In his hand he carried a notepad, with specific directions.

"My co-workers have assigned me the most noble task of patrolling outside Magnus Bane's household to watch over the suspect." He said with a dark smile, his teeth shining.

Jace stared at him, his mouth slightly ajar. "If you had boobs, I would be all over you right now."

"If you had intelligence . . . actually, I would still be uninterested."

"You'd grow to love me."

"I'm glad to see you're still as annoying as ever. Anyway, you need to take this," he handed Jace a badge from his belt. "If we run into trouble, this should be enough. If it doesn't, I have ID."

"How the hell do you have a –"

"- a friend in the department. Quite a few friends, come to mention it. That's why I was 'permitted' to stake out a high threat criminal unaccompanied; something about '_giving the other guy the night off'. _Corruption and chaos are all around you, Jace Lightwood - you just need to know where to look."

Jace shoved his hands in his pockets, his head ducked against the wind. "Believe me," he muttered. "You don't have to tell me twice."

They had been relatively silent after that point, waiting outside the station in the dark. Raphael wasn't exactly a social butterfly, that much was obvious.

It took all of his willpower not a shout when the station doors opened and Alec stumbled out, looking awkward and uncomfortable as always.

"Hold your tongue, Lightwood," Raphael hissed. "You'll ruin everything."

Jace gulped, and watched as another man followed behind Alec; a freakishly tall Adam Lambert wannabe, with rainbow puke in his hair.

"Jesus Christ."

"Magnus Bane, actually. But I've heard he likes to think of himself as that, also."

Alec said something to the sparkly man, but he was too far away for Jace to hear him properly. Every muscle in his body was telling him to pursue, but Raphael remained motionless.

"Do we follow?"

"Not yet."

"_What?_"

"We have to wait. Though I'm not entirely sure what this is about, I'm not stupid, and I know the last thing anyone needs is you breaking into the house of the most powerful attorney in New York and being caught. It's – " he pulled out his phone (_how the fuck did that kid get an iPhone?_ Jace wondered) and glanced at the time. "It's twenty to twelve. We have to wait."

And wait they did. Saying that Raphael was the most uncomfortable human being he had ever met was understatement of the around outside Magnus Bane's apartment, almost five hours later and fighting off the hyperactivity he usually felt due to boredom, he would have taken Alec's awkward insecurities over Raphael's jaw-droppingly emotionless silence in a heartbeat. _At least Alec makes an effort, _he thought irritably. _This guy just doesn't care. _

"Have you found his door yet, honey?"

Raphael pursed his lips with distaste. "It's a lot of floors to go through, sweetheart."

Jace growled. "Well I guess we'd better pick up the pace then, shouldn't we, angel pie?"

Raphael's mouth broke into a smug little grin. "Why, look at this, poopsy-bear – I found _'Bane'."_

Chuckling at Jace's look of absolute horror at the nickname, he kneeled at the door and pulled out a paper clip and a hair pin. "A hair pin? Really?"

"Shut it, Lightwood," Raphael snapped. "You didn't pay me to endure your stupidity."

He shoved the two items in the lock and shimmied around with them for about two minutes, until it clicked unlock. Raphael got up off the floor and dusted his hands off on his jeans.

"_Eresbienvenido, gilipollas."_Raphael said, pushing the door open quietly. "You have ten minutes, understood?"

Jace shoved passed him. "Sure."

Stepping inside, his eyes strained against the sudden darkness, he turned towards Raphael again, who was watching him, his expression unreadable. Squaring his shoulders, he started towards the hallway, barely looking at the obvious grandness of the place. Staring at the hall, he felt his stomach drop. There were a lot of rooms.

The first was a bathroom – the second two were all for storage. In annoyance, he stormed to the last door; knowing his luck, it would be that one. He opened it and nearly yelled out.

It wasn't Alec. It was the sparkly guy from before. He watched in horror as the man stirred, rolling over and mumbling something in his sleep. By some miracle, he remained asleep.

Cursing himself mentally, he closed the door as quietly as he could, and tried the next one.

It was a study – not a bedroom. The room was consumed in darkness, but that much was obvious. "Damn."

Jace was about to give up out of frustration when he heard it; "_Jace?_"

His eyes flew to the whisper, and that's when he noticed the bed in the corner – the bed, and his best friend.

Alec sat up groggily, looking exhausted and shocked beyond belief. "Is that you? Wha –"

With lightning speed, Jace's hand was over Alec's mouth, his fingers pressed to his own lips. As quietly as he could, he grabbed Alec's wrist and pulled him from the bed. He didn't have to worry about Alec's state of dress – he was still wearing the clothes he had been wearing when Jace saw him last. Alec was always much too paranoid to get undressed in a place he didn't trust. Jace used to find it stupid, now he only thought of it as one of Alec's many endearing qualities.

He guided Alec through the hall until they were out in the lounge again, standing in the light of the main entrance. Raphael was nowhere to be seen – but Jace knew he wouldn't have gone far. He'd only paid the boy half.

Only when they stood in the light did Jace hug him. He held on with more force than he should have, just checking to see if he was real. "Are you alright?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm, serious, indifferent.

Alec still looked shocked. "Is – is this a dream?" he asked in confusion.

Jace clipped him over the head with the back of his hand.

"Ow!" Alec cursed, ducking his head. "A simple 'no' would have worked, too."

"Alec, shut up," Jace said hurriedly. "We need to get out of here – that guy's gonna wake up any minute." He grabbed his friend's hand and tried to pull him through the door. Alec snatched it back.

"Jace, I can't believe you're here. Do you want to get caught?" he demanded, his face serious and anxious as ever. "I told you to leave me – I meant it."

Jace glared at him. This was not the time to be having this discussion. "You seriously think I was just going to let you go to prison for me?"

"Yes!"

"_Keep your voice down_."

Alec bit his lip stubbornly. "If you wanted to help, you should have called my parents." He muttered.

"I did," Jace replied through his teeth. "I called Isabelle, and she's calling them, and then I called fucking _Raphael Santiago, _just to bust you out of this place, which isn't exactly working out the way I expected."

Alec looked at him with annoyance. "You called _Raphael_?"

"He was the only one who could help me find you."

Alec looked at him. There was something odd about the way he stared – but there was always something odd about the way Alec looked at Jace. Full of trust and faith and love; with this raw unyielding protectiveness that sometimes made him feel a little overwhelmed. It was difficult, sometimes, to remember that this anxious, timid, awkward guy was also the kid that had saved his life nine years previously. Really, he owed Alec his entire life.

_So just let me help you, damn it. _

"Jace, I – you need to leave – if anything happened to you –"

"Nothing will happen so long as we leave _now_."

"Of course something will happen!" he whispered frantically. "Things will be even worse for us if I take off. For _all _of us." He looked at Jace, and he knew he was talking about Isabelle. "It will be absolute chaos, Jace. And not just for us, for Magnus –" he broke off, and Jace gaped at him.

"Wow, Alec. You're at first-name basis with the guy who kidnapped you? Real nice."

He bit his lip. "He didn't _kidnap _me. He's trying to help."

Jace frowned. "Sorry, _what_?"

"He offered to be my defence attorney. No charge. He's not being paid for it. He's genuinely doing it to help me – or, to help his career," he sounded uncertain. "It doesn't matter. The thing is, he's _good_. Really, _really_ good, from what I heard. He can get me out."

Jace was beginning to panic. Surely his ten minutes were almost up. "Alec, _please_. Why are you so eager to stay here?Please, please_, please_, come with me."

Alec looked agonized. "I can't, Jace. I'm starting to understand just how big this is. We will _never _get away from this – I was born into it, and I dragged you into it. And Imogen _will_ find you, Jace. She _will._"

Jace looked down, fighting back the urge to grab Alec by the neck and _force _him out. "I don't care. I can't just leave you here."

Alec let out a breath – it sounded shaking, full of desperation. "It'll be alright. Just – just don't do anything stupid. Do what you can to help, but don't take the law into your own hands. I want you to know –" he broke off suddenly, looking anxious. "You are my _best friend_, and I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. "

Jace stepped away from him, shaking his head. To his amazement he heard himself laughing – it was full of pain. "This isn't just about me is it? This is about him." The thrust his head towards the hall, where Magnus Bane lay sleeping. "You don't want him to get in trouble."

"Not really."

Jace moaned. "Why do you _care_? He doesn't care about you, Alec. He _doesn't. _"

Alec grimanced. "He . . . he risked his entire career for me tonight. He could have been fired – he could have been arrested, honestly. And he risked everything for some stranger he'd never met in his life. He had to care a little bit." After he finished, his eyes widened a little, as if he hadn't thought of it until just then.

"So what? Some random guy walks in, gives you the tiniest amount of attention and suddenly you're inseparable? You realize in order for him to defend you, you have to tell him everything? About me, about what happened to me, about your parents, about Isabelle, about _Max _–"

"I'm not going to tell him anything," Alec said quickly, changing the subject. "I'll tell him what needs to be said, but I won't tell him a single thing that it involves putting you at risk. I promise, alright. Just swear to me you'll do the same. "

Jace glared at him, but he knew there was no stopping him. Alec was, at times, almost as stubborn as Jace himself. "You have to be the most obnoxiously honest person I've ever met in my life."

Alec smiled at that. Jace always liked his smile. It was warm, and genuine. People smiled all the time, without really meaning it – Alec only smiled when he had a real reason to.

"Keep the faith, don't screw up, don't let your guard down," Jace said finally, using his last minute or so wisely. "Don't tell them anything, and don't forget that I've got your back, always."

Alec nodded, frowning slightly. Jace let out a breath and turned towards the door. "Wait!" Alec whispered, stepping forward as if to grab him. Jace turned back.

"Thanks," he said awkwardly. "I didn't think you would come after me."

"Would you?"

Alec met his eyes with a fierce look. "No matter what."

"Then there's your answer."

He couldn't look at Alec anymore – he needed to get out. He spun on his heel without a second glance, stalking out the door and once again shoving past Raphael, who looked more bored than anything. He heard the boy shut the door behind him, and his footsteps as he rushed to catch up.

"Where is your brother?" he asked.

"Oh, he's still there. Fucking idiot."

"'Still there'? Why? I thought you wanted to save him?"

"I did. Turns out he had another idea."

"Oh." There was an awkward silence between them."So I suppose my job is done, then?" he asked, his voice strangely soft. Jace wasn't in the mood to care about feeling uncomfortable, but he was surprised that Raphael was. Maybe he wasn't as emotionless as Jace had once thought.

"Not quite. If Alec's staying there, I need you to go to my apartment and pick up some of his things. I can't go there – too dangerous. They won't suspect you, though."

"Of course." He went silent, allowing Jace time to come to an understanding, to take in what had just happened.

"You are right, then," he said quietly, once they'd stepped out into open air.

"Right about what?" Jace asked.

"Your brother _is_ a fucking idiot."

****************************************************************************  
_Magnus's POV_

His eyes were open the second the door closed.

His blood turned to icy in his veins, and his heart began to pound ferociously in his chest. _Not now_, he thought. _Please, please. _

He found himself lying deathly still, unable to move, for at least two or three minutes. His mind struggled through fear and tiredness. _Relax_, he demanded of himself. You need to relax. Maybe Alec had been looking for the bathroom, and simply opened the wrong door – if he _was _planning anything else, Magnus could handle it. He had handled worse.

_Relax_, he thought again. He glanced and the gun on the bedside table, and then, willing his body to move, he slipped out of the sheets, and pulled on a pair of jeans, picking up the gun while he did. _It's nothing, nothing, nothing. An overreaction, that's all. Don't panic. Panic doesn't help._

He remembered back to the last time this had happened, when he was a frightened sixteen year old, hiding in his kitchen with a butcher's knife in his shaking fingers. The thought made him tighten his grip on the much hated weapon. _I will not hurt Alec, _he promised himself. _No matter what he does, I will not hurt Alec. _

He opened the door, thanking the lack of noise it brought, and stepped out into the hall. He took a step, and then another step. Each time he did, he found himself wincing at the sound; it wasn't loud, but in his stress, each sound noise sounded like the roar of a jet turbine.

He frowned, and stopped in place. He could hear voices at the front of the apartment – two voices. _Is there someone else here? _He thought with another jolt of fear. Weren't there supposed to be police outside, guarding? _How the hell is there someone else in the house? _

They were arguing, and though he couldn't make out what they were saying, he recognised Alec's anxious tone. The squeezed his eyes shut in disappointment, and pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. _Jesus Christ, don't be stupid, Alexander_, he pleaded. _If you walk out that door your life is over. Even I can't save you. _

He reached the end of the hallway and, summoning his courage, craned his neck around the hall. He knew there was no way they could see him, but the front door was open and the light from the outside corridor was seeping in, bathing two figures in light.

_Two figures. _One – the tall, gangly one – was unmistakable Alec. The other figure made Magnus's eyes go wide in shock.

He was tall, but not as tall as Alec. He was muscular, and probably a bit younger than the Lightwood. His hair was golden, and from what he could tell, so were his eyes. The boy looked angry, but the fear in his eyes was hard to miss.

He knew the face. It was the same face from the file Morgenstern had given him. _Jonathan, _he thought widly. _Jonathan Herondale – Jonathan Herondale is in my apartment. _

"Alec, _please_." The golden haired boy whispered desperately. "Why are you so eager to stay here? Please, please_, please_, come with me."

Magnus had a sudden craving for hard liquor – anything to get rid of the migraine that was forming.

What was going _on_? How did _Jonathan Herondale break into his apartment_? _Why _did he break into his apartment? Was this some sort of weird Stockholm thing? Why else would Jonathan want to help the son of the family who kidnapped him?

Well, after nine years, it would make sense if there was some sort of attachment, but Imogen herself had quoted in the file that he was strong-willed and set in his ways, even as a child. _You were strong-willed and set in your ways, _he reminded himself. _You never sympathised with _him_, did you? _

But it was different for everyone. Right now, his best bet was Stockholm Syndrome. Except . . .

Except there was something odd about the way Alec was looking at him.

"I can't, Jace. I'm starting to understand just how big this is. We will _never _get away from this – I was born into it, and I dragged you into it. And Imogen will find you, Jace. She will."

Magnus's jaw nearly hit the ground. _WHAT? What, what, what, what, what, WHAT? _

Jonathan – or, as Alec had so affectionately nicknamed him, _Jace – _curled his hands into fists."I don't care. I can't just leave you here."

So, he really needed a drink. One or two or twelve. What did _this _mean? Alec's relationship with Jace was stronger than he would have ever believed – his reluctance to talk was more than just a desire to protect his family; he was trying to protect his _friend_, too.

Alec nodded nervously. "It'll be alright. Just – just don't do anything stupid. Do what you can to help, but don't take the law into your own hands. I want you to know –"Alec broke off suddenly, and there was something his expression, like he was trying to get something off his chest. "You are my _best friend_, and I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. "

The shocks just kept coming.

There was more to Alec's relationship with Jace than he suspected even Jace himself knew. Once Magnus started to think about it, it made sense. There had to be a reason he had barely heard of Alexander Lightwood before this – he was good at hiding. So why did he get suddenly get caught, when he had every possibility to escape? Unless he did it to save Jace; it would explain why he refused to answer any questions during his interrogation.

But Alec wasn't looking at Jace the way friends look at each other. He was looking at him like someone would look at a lover – like they would be ready to die for them at any moment.

This changes everything, he thought. _Alec is in love with Jonathan Herondale. _

It explained almost everything, except the sharp pang in his heart.

"This isn't just about me is it? This is about him." Jace gestured to the hall. "You don't want him to get in trouble."

Alec looked sheepish. "Not really."

Jace moaned. "Why do you _care_? He doesn't care about you, Alec. He _doesn't. _"

"He . . . he risked his entire career for me tonight. He could have been fired – he could have been arrested, honestly. And he risked everything for some stranger he'd never met in his life. He had to care a little bit." Alec looked down, his expression hidden.

Magnus almost smiled, though he wasn't entire sure why it had made him feel so happy. _This has got to be the first time a client of mine has _willingly _stayed, even when they had every opportunity to leave. _Alec had be the strangest person he had ever met.

"So what? Some random guy walks in, gives you the tiniest amount of attention and suddenly you're inseparable? You realize in order for him to defend you, you have to tell him everything? About me, about what happened to me, about your parents, about Isabelle, about _Max _–"

Alec broke in, looking startled. "I'm not going to tell him anything. I'll tell him what needs to be said, but I won't tell him a single thing that it involves putting you at risk. I promise, alright. Just swear to me you'll do the same. "

"You have to be the most obnoxiously honest person I've ever met in my life." Jace glared, but there was some kindness in his eyes. Alec smiled. "Keep the faith, don't screw up, don't let your guard down. Don't tell them anything, and don't forget that I've got your back, always."

Jonathan turned around to leave, and Alec looked frantic. "Wait!" he whispered desperately, stepping forward. Jace faced him again, brow raised.

"Thanks," Alec said awkwardly. "I didn't think you would come after me."

"Would you?" Jace asked.

Alec met his eyes with determination and sudden confidence.. "No matter what."

"Then there's your answer."

Jace left without a word, storming out of the room, the door closing about five seconds afterwards. Magnus watched, feeling numb, as Alec stood alone in the darkness of the foyer.

"I love you," he whispered into the darkness, and Magnus's heart contracted painfully.

He turned and hurried back to his room, not particularly caring about being inconspicuous anymore. He just couldn't believe it. He placed the gun back in the drawer, feeling sick with confusion. He wasn't sure what to feel. On one hand – Alec stayed. He could have left, he _wanted _to leave, but he stayed because he wanted to be good. He stayed out of respect for Magnus.

But he couldn't deny the sadness he felt. He wasn't entirely sure why, either. Alec's affections had nothing to do with him personally – it shouldn't have affected him the way it did.

This – this _love _Alec had for Jace, it was the perfect case seller. Finally, there was something Magnus could work with; even if the thought of it made him want to hit something.

Or, if you do what Imogen wants – you could destroy him with it.

Once again, he undressed, hoping back into bed, but knowing he would definitely be too wired to sleep. _You need to quit your job_, he thought, sighing to himself. _If you can't work without getting attached to wanted criminals, we have a definite problem. What the hell would Camille say_?

Camille would butcher him, that much was true.

He closed his eyes, wishing for sleep, and somehow he managed to drift off, still thinking of Alec.

**************************************************  
**(A/N – YAY IT'S OVER OMG! Well, ok , it's over until the next chapter, which will be better and less confusing, I promise. AND YES IMOGEN IS AN AWFUL PERSON but idk I also really like her? I also really like Raphael a lot, as you can tell. He's perfect and I have this sort of headcanon that he's the Captain Jack Harkness of TMI. Don't judge (also, when Jace calls him "Claudia", that's a reference to "Interview With A Vampire" with the creepy sadistic demon child, aka Claudia.)**

**APOLOGIES FOR THE HUGE AMOUNT OF JALEC – it's only because I'm trying to make this as realistic as possible, by keeping the characters as true to the books as possible. And, at the start, Alec is crazy about Jace. ALL SHALL CHANGE. You know, if you review. Muhahahahha. **

**Anyway, reviews are very much appreciated, because I love hearing what people think about my writing. Thanks for reading!)**


	5. Panic

**(A/N – Merry Christmas, everyone! I would apologize for this being late, but honestly I think two to three weeks is just going to be my usual update time. You're reviews were all lovely and really pushed me to get this finished. Not gonna lie – I finished this two days ago, but I figured I'd post it as a Christmas present – as lousy a present it may be :p**

**I'm **_**really **_**happy with this chapter – I think it makes up for the last one (though, you guys didn't seem to mind it which made me really happy) big time. And, I guess, in the spirit of Christmas, it has a healthy dosage of Malec fluff ( gotta get through the angst first xoxo), yay :D I've also added a lot of references to canon, and PLOT FORESHADOWING DUN DUN DUN. Plus there's also the usual Jalec, some Simobelle and WOW CLACE OMG FINALLY. Just because I love you guys ;D ALSO, I should tell you now, I've snuck some tiny little Doctor Who and Harry Potter references in, just to spice things up in my own geeky way (as a multifandom girl, I'm gonna be throwing as many references in as possible, just a warning.) ****WARNING ****– trigger warning for Anxiety, guys. If you're uncomfortable with it, this probably isn't for you. I wanted to include this because Alec seems anxious in canon, I wanted to explore that more, and the inner sub-conscious workings of it, as well as the helplessness of it, because even a small panic attack is terrifying enough and I want the chance to be able to write about it. **

**Wow ok I'm gonna shut up. Enjoy this chapter, tell me what you think, and happy holidays, everyone 3)**

**DISCLAIMER (because I forgot to do this oops) – All characters belong to their rightful owners. No copyright infringement in intended whoooooo)**

_He wasn't entirely sure why he was so anxious._

_After all, he had never been a timid person. He had never been fearful of the dark, even as a baby – he wasn't afraid of heights, or spiders, or monsters or people. Sometimes, Jonathan wondered if he was afraid of anything at all. Maybe this time he had found it._

_He turned the phone Alec had given him around in his hands again, finding comfort it its smooth, plastic texture. While he did, he snuck a glance at Alec. He looked nervous too – maybe even more than Jonathan._

"_What's taking them so long?" he asked aloud, biting his lip. He had his arms folded around his stomach, like he was trying to defend himself from an attack. _Funny, _Jonathan thought. _He never tried to defend himself when _I _attacked him. It was all kicking.

_They were standing by a streetlight, not far from an old restaurant his parents used to take him to. Taki's, if he remembered correctly. It wasn't much, but passing it sent little jolts of nostalgia through him. Just another little tie to the life he used to have; a tie that hadn't yet been cut._

_Jonathan shrugged. "Maybe they left without you. Maybe they think you're a bad son." He wasn't sure why he was being so mean; it wasn't as if he didn't like Alec – well, sort of. He didn't hate him, anyway. _

_Alec didn't say anything, but his arms tightened around his stomach and he bit his lip harder, so hard Jonathan swore there would be blood. After a second, he saw the skin break._

"_Stop it!" Jonathan said with alarm._

_Alec looked at him. "Stop what?" _

"_Your lip is bleeding!"_

_Alec's hand flew to his bottom lip and touched the blood. Jonathan watched as his cheeks turned almost as red as the thick dark liquid itself._

"_Sorry," he mumbled. "I'm always doing that."_

"Why_?" Jonathan asked incredulously._

_Alec shrugged half-heartedly. "I don't really know. But . . . can you not say that? About me being a bad son?"_

"_Uh," Jace looked away. "Sure. Sorry."_

_Alec was about to reply, when they heard a shout._

"_Alexander!"_

_Jonathan had realized that the voice was directed at Alec, a woman – tall, slim, with raven hair like Alec's – had pulled the other boy into what looked like a bone crushing hug._

_The woman was followed by two other people; a tall, broad-shouldered, angry looking man and a pretty little girl, almost identical to Alec except for her long,carefully-brushed hair, and her eyes, which were black instead of Alec's blue. _

_The entire family were tall, pale and dark-haired. It was a little nerve-wracking; Jonathan looked nothing like his parents. _

"_Alec," Alec's mother said softly, stroking her son's cheek. "Are you alright?"_

"_I'm fine, I told you," he pulled away from her, and looked at the little girl. "Isabelle, I _told _you to stay close to me!" he scolded, his voice full of anger. Jonathan frowned. He sounded different when he was angry. Older._

_Isabelle, who must have been Alec's sister, sneered. "Well maybe _you _should have stayed close to _me, _moron."_

"_I am not a –"_

"_That's enough." It was the man he spoke, his voice dripping with authority. Alec looked up and seemed to shrink. Jonathan couldn't exactly blame him._

_The man seemed to have only then realized that Jonathan was there. He glared at him. "This isn't a spectator's sport, kid. Run along."_

"_I'm not a kid," he said, before he could stop himself. The man's eyes narrowed, and he took a step forward._

"_Dad." Alec said quickly, stepping between his father and Jonathan. "This is – this is Jonathan. H-he's my friend. I –"_

_His father looked shocked. "Alexander, you're not supposed to be talking to people you don't know,_" _he said angrily_. _"I thought you were a bit smarter than that."_

"_No, it's not that – it's just – he was alone, and-and I –"_

"_We _can't _afford to be making a name for ourselves, boy." Alec seemed to go even paler at that, which was incredible, considering he already looked like a corpse. _Like a corpse . . .

"_Please," Alec said, quieter this time. "Please. He –"_

"_My name's Jonathan," Jonathan said cheerfully, stepping besides Alec. He wasn't sure why, but a part of him hated seeing Alec look so stressed. Why was that? _ _"I'm not going to mention you to anyone, if you don't want. First of all, I don't actually care. Plus, I'm the best secret keeper in, like, ever. Well, not really, but –" he glanced at Alec's father, and smirked. "But you're terrifying, so out of respect for you and for my safety, you're secret – whatever it is – is safe with me." He finished his speech, winking at Isabelle. She giggled. _

_Alec's father had a face like thunder; cold, harsh, sombre – and then his lips broke into a grin._

_He had almost the same smile as Alec's, with all its vibrancy and sunshine. Alec's was still better – it made Jonathan feel like he achieved something, like he won something – this man's smile didn't make him feel anything. But he returned the smile anyway._

"_I like him," he said finally, smirking at his wife. She smiled too, but it seemed a little forced. "My name is Maryse," she said. "This is my husband, Robert, and Alec's sister, Isabelle."_

_His smile morphed into a grin when he looked at Isabelle. She looked about the same age as him, maybe slightly younger. Apart from her dark eyes and long her long hair, she looked the same as her brother – except she seemed to lack all his self-consciousness and anxiety. She made a face at him and laughed at his rejected look._

"_Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt – we lost the dogs at least an hour ago, and I doubt they'll still be looking for us." The way Maryse said 'dogs' made Jonathan question whether or not she was actually talking about your typical canine. "Some dinner won't be the end of the word." _

_Robert nodded, and Maryse continued. "Anywhere in particular?"_

_Isabelle started shouting out places eagerly, and Alec remind silent, except for the occasional agreement._

"_We could go to Taki's," Jace suggested._

"_Where?"_

"_Taki's. It's just down there," he pointed. "It doesn't look great, but it is. Trust me. It's cheap, too."_

"_Money isn't an issue." Robert said, giving his wife a grim look. "Alright, I guess it's settled."_

_**********************************************************************  
_Alec Lightwood was dreaming of home.

He stood in his old garden, with a handful of sand, and he was dreaming of the home he used to have, before everything fell apart, slipping through his fingers like tiny little grains of happiness; the last remainders of the only true happiness he had. Except when the sand fell from his fingers now, they disappeared before they touched the ground, and all the dirt from the garden disappeared and he was alone. Now he was in a graveyard, but there was no grass or dirt or sand – only concrete, and the concrete was stained with red.

Alec sobbed and stumbled through the headstones, closing his eyes. _I can't see the name, I can't. We don't talk about it. You don't talk about it. Wake him up! No, no, no, it didn't happen. But then why did this happen?_

And then he was in his old primary school maths room, and the whiteboard displayed advanced calculus, and he couldn't figure it out, because he was only small, and scared, and he didn't understand, and no child should ever have to understand advanced calculus, _please, please –_

"_Please!"_

"_Wake up!"_

"_Wake up!"_

"_This is your fault!"_

"_Wake –"_

"_I don't understand –"_

"_Alec, wake him up!"_

"_Wake up!"_

"_It should have been you!"_

"_Wake up, Mum, please!"_

"_WAKE UP."_

Alec moaned. His eyes fluttered open, and they felt raw and heavy. His throat was tight, and the side of his face and his ribs both ached. He was momentarily baffled – and then all the events from the night before came flooding back to him, so suddenly that he groaned, his index fingers working at the dull pounding in his temples. He sat up, his heart beating. This bed didn't creak like his old bed normally did – _alright, last night was real. Not a dream. _

He rubbed and his eyes tiredly, and realized he had been crying in his sleep; his brow furrowed, and he tried to remember what he had been dreaming about. Something about calculus? Well, that was enough reason to start crying.

Honestly, he was surprised he had fallen asleep in the first place. He vaguely remember going back to his 'room' after Jace left, feeling empty and sad. He remained awake for at least two hours – but then he _must_ have fallen asleep. He pulled open the eyes, blinking at the sudden light.

Lighter than he expected. He must have slept in.

He yawned and stretched, only then realizing that he'd slept in his clothes. _Right now, these clothes are the only things I have_, he reminded himself. He skin was hot and clammy with sweat, and the only think he could think about without getting a splitting headache was a shower. _Magnus said he had work, so he's probably out already. _

He bit his lip. _Magnus_. Would he still have stayed, had it have been anyone else?

No. Well, probably not. Magnus Bane just had that personality, the one that made people want to leave their friends and family and stay in house arrest, innocent or not. His previous hopes of leaving after a few nights were all but eradicated. _Leaving is the worst thing I could possibly do_. And he knew Jace was aware of that, even if he didn't want to be.

He stepped out into the hall, and started down into the foyer. He bit his lip, thinking. What the hell was he going to do, spending the next . . . how long would he even be staying here? A week? Month? A year? He knew some court cases took _years – _that made him nervous. He was questioning how he could make it threw of day with Magnus, let alone a _year_. Liking him or finding him funny or kind or interesting or compassionate or intelligent or really, really, _really_ attractive – none of that would make the experience any better; especially since they weren't exactly friends. Hell, Alec couldn't stand Jace half the time – his stomach did flips thinking of how he was going to handle things with Magnus.

He stepped out into the foyer. "Oh!" he shouted, nearly jumping out of his skin. "Oh, wow!"

Magnus sat at the table with a cup of coffee, reading the newspaper absently. His spiky, colourful hair from last night was wet and limp, all traces of colouring gone, little beads of water from the shower still clinging to the sides of his face, which was devoid of any makeup Alec could see. He was dressed in fashionably worn jeans and a black shirt; the only evidence of the flamboyant person Alec had met yesterday night was the faint shine of glitter on his clothes.

Alec's eyes went wide. Magnus looked normal, and that was perhaps even more baffling than his craziness.

Magnus looked up from the paper and smirked at him knowingly, taking a sip of coffee, refusing to break eyecontact. There was something in his smile that made Alec uncomfortable - was he imagining things, or was there annoyance behind those lips?

"Sleep well?" he asked with amusement.

"Uh," Alec avoided his eyes and stared down at his feet. "Yeah, I guess. The bed was, um, nice and . . . nice."

"Nice and nice," Magnus repeated in a strange, business-like tone. "Fabulous. I'm glad the bed meets the Nice requirements."

"Uh."

"So you slept fine, I take it? No disturbances? You didn't wake up at any time?"

Alec gulped. He was always bad at lying. "Nope. None."

"Huh." Magnus's laugh was bitter and humourless. Alec bit his lip. _What did he do wrong?_

"Do you want coffee?" he asked, getting up. Alec noticed this time that he was making a point in not looking at him. His hands sought around his stomach instinctively. "I . . . if it's no trouble. I don't want to be a . . . a hassle."

"Not at all. I'll make some toast as well."

Alec was going to refuse, but thought better of it. He _was _hungry, but he was feeling sick, and food probably wasn't going to help. He took a seat next to Magnus's chair.

"I thought you were going to be out today? For work?" Alec asked loudly, whilst the taller man rummaged around in the other room.

"I'm working from home. Apparently leaving a suspect alone is 'unprofessional.'" Magnus called back.

"Oh," Alec didn't know how else to respond, so instead he distracted himself, his eyes flickering to the page Magnus had been reading.

His heart stopped.

_MEMBER OF INFAMOUS LIGHTWOOD TRAFFICKING SCANDAL UNDER ARREST: HUNT FOR ALLEGED MISSING PERSON CONTINUES._

"Oh, _Christ." _

"Relax, sweetheart." Came Magnus's voice from the kitchen, Alec looked up and frowned. _Sweetheart? _

He glanced again at the headline, feeling the anxiety spread through his system like a weed."I . . . I am. Relaxed, I mean. I'm f-fine."

He heard footsteps, and then Magnus was back in view, with a mug of coffee in one hand and a plate with two pieces of toast balanced on the other. He set the down in front of Alec at retook his seat. He was smiling pleasantly enough, but he still didn't meet Alec's eyes.

"You sound utterly fantastic," he said sarcasticly. "Alexander 'I'm Fine' Lightwood."

The use of his full name sent another jolt of panic through his. Alexander, the name his parents called him, the same parents he'd endangered by allowing himself to get caught. "Please. It's Alec."

"Fine. _Alec _"I'm Fine" Lightwood. Happy?" The joking was out of his voice now. Alec grimaced and looked at his toast, feeling sick. The thought of food was nauseating.

Magnus noticed his queasiness, and reached his hand out to wrap on the table. "Don't worry about that article, by the way."

"There are pictures of me!" Alec squeaked. His slammed his mouth closed. If he kept talking, it was making everything worse. He _couldn't _have an episode here. Not here. Not now.

Magnus nodded. "Yes, of course. And as you can see . . ." he gestured at the snapshot of him walking outside the NYPD offices. "Your face is blurred. I made a few arrangements, with your rights in mind. While they have to communicate with the media, your identity will remain anonymous for safety and privacy and so on." Alec felt Magnus's eyes boring into him. When he spoke next, it was slow, cautious."I imagine the public discovering who you are could get the people you love into trouble, right?"

"Like . . . like who?"

"Like friends."

"I d-don't have that many friends."

"Oh." Magnus took another sip of coffee. "I suppose that was a gift from a fan, then?" He nodded to the chair on the opposite side of his, and Alec followed his gaze. There was a duffel bag sitting there, most inconspicuously, though it looked familiar. In growing horror, Alec unzipped the bag and opened it. It was his stuff – clothes, toiletries, necessities.

_Jace_.

"I . . ."

"Your friend Jonathan left them outside the door. I found them this morning. He must have come back after last night, to drop them off." Magnus said pointedly. Alec gulped and stared at the wall in shock. In the corner of his eyes, Magnus leaned it. "Now, what kind of kidnapping victim willingly drops off their kidnapper's possessions?"

"I don't . . . I don't know what you're t-talking about."

His voice was barely even a whisper.

Magnus groaned, leaning back and running his fingers through his hair. "Don't play stupid with me, Alec. You strike me as a bright guy – do _not _make the mistake of lying to me. You need to tell me what happened."

"How did you _know_?" Alec demanded suddenly. "How-how did you kn-know J-Jace . . . how did you know Jonathan visited me last night?"

"He's not the brightest witch of his age, let me tell you that." Magnus said, smiling with humourlessly. "When he tried to break you out – from what I understand, that's what he was attempting to do, right? – when he tried to break you out, he woke me up. I followed you both, and the rest is history."

"I –" Alec broke off, at a loss. His stomach was twisting painfully with anxiety, and he could almost imagine the room beginning to flood – something he used to do when he was younger, before he had panic attacks.

"You did nothing wrong, though," Magnus said quickly. "In fact, this is excellent. I can use this to our advantage. Your relationship with Herondale can be our main case, and _especially _if we sell it well. Teenage sob stories work well, truth be told. I just wish you would have told me this at the beginning."

Alec frowned. "Tell you . . . w-what? That he's my-my friend?"

Magnus looked at him, and there was something both pitying and also deeply sad in his eyes.

"How long have you been in love with Jonathan Herondale, Alec?"

Before Alec really knew what he was doing he was out of the chair, pacing around the room, trying to get his breathing back in order._ Too much water, _he thought desperately. _I need air. I can't breathe._

"_This is your fault!"_

The flood was sweeping memories back, memories he didn't want to revisit. _Advanced calculus, right? Or maybe a graveyard? _His subconscious was splashing around in the water, impossible to ignore. _The dream, what happened in the dream?_

Alec let out a sob. The world was spinning too fast. He tried to focus on Magnus, to answer his question, but he couldn't speak with all the water. "No! No, no! I'm not – w-we're just . . . he's my f-friend. I – I can't – nobody – oh, oh God. I'm sorry – I just, you don't . . . you don't . . . _understand_, okay? Please, I can't just . . . God, this is my fault. It's my fault, it's my fault."

"Alec, calm down," Magnus was standing up, staring at Alec in alarm. Except he was worried for all the wrong reasons. It didn't matter, he was already underwater. Alec didn't really care at this point.

He remembered what his dream was about.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. This wasn't how he wanted his life to go. All his thoughts were on Jace, on Izzy. If anyone found out about him, their lives were over. And he'd ruined everything. Everything. A blurred photo was still a photo, and getting arrested would still draw attention. It would only take one curious reporter to figure out everything. And if his other secret got out, what would his parents say – God, what would _Jace _say? He would look at him in disgust and never speak to him again. His parents would be ashamed. His father would disown him. And he would lose everyone he loved, and it would be entirely his fault. _Again. Again, again, again. _

All he wanted was to _help_, to _protect_, and every time he just ruined it. He ruined everything.

"_This is your fault!"_

"_It should have been you!"_

"_Wake up!"_

He was underwater, but he wasn't floating. He might as well have been an anchor. His entire world spun violently, and he reached out blindly for something to grab, anything to stop spinning. He was seeing double, his breath rapid and short and terrified."Oh, God, _no_ –" He felt himself falling . . .

And then he felt arms around him, catching him before he hit the ground. He blinked stupidly, and the world seemed to stop moving, and reality catching up to him. _Stop_. _It's just you. There's no water, remember? _He inhaled, shuddering, looking up.

Magnus's face was full of concern, his arms gripping Alec elbows tight enough to hurt. He didn't mind though. Anything to keep him out of the water.

"Alexander, darling, it's alright." He assured him, his voice soft. Gently, he lowered Alec down to the floor, resting his head against the wall. Alec shuddered and struggled to get up, but Magnus pushed him down again. "No, stay. I'm getting water. Don't pass out, okay. Do you want me to call someone?"

"No, please!" Alec said, his breath catching.

"Shh, shh shh, Alec! It's alright! It's fine, I'm not going to call them. Just try and keep calm." Magnus got up off the floor and went to the kitchen, and Alec held back a sob. This was the last thing he wanted, to start thinking about these things again. He brought his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead against his legs, desperately trying to get his breathing back to normal. He was still hyperventilating, but thankfully he wasn't crying. He didn't want to cry with Magnus looking. He didn't want to cry, ever. He realized he had stopped breathing, and the panting came back.

Magnus came back and handed him a glass of water, smiling nervously. "I'm not angry, you know." He said quietly. Alec stared at the water, but he couldn't drink it. He took gasping breaths.

"I – I'm really sorry, Magnus," Alec mumbled through his breaths.

"No, it's my fault. I –"

"No, th-this happens all the time, I – I just panic, and I start _thinking, _and then I just sort of lose everything and I go crazy and start seeing things and thinking things and I used to think I was crazy and honestly sometimes I still do I know I probably seem pathetic to you now and I'm really sorry about all this because I never normally do this in public because I hate it _so_ much and it wasn't your fault because it was just _everything _and I can't deal with everything and _please please Magnus don't tell anyone about Jace." _

Magnus frowned at Alec, letting him speak and then waiting, watching as he buried his face in his knees, trying to get his breathing back to normal again.

Deep breath. Count to five. Release. Hold for ten. _Well done. You haven't even made it twenty-four hours and you've lost it. Excellent job._

He realized with a start that Magnus's hand was on his neck, just under his jaw, his thumb rubbing calming circles on his cheek. Alec closed his eyes and concentrated on that.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he realized that his heart was beating steadily, and his breath had returned to normal. He opened his eyes, blinked, and looked at Magnus again.

"Don't tell anyone about Jace," He whispered again.

Magnus's hand fell away, and he looked guilty, as if it shouldn't have been there in the first place. "I won't mention the . . . the details of your affections, Alexander. I can say that you and Mr Herondale have a close, brotherly bond, and your desire to keep him close influenced your reasoning to not come forward. That can still help you. Does that sound alright?"

Alec bit his lip. "I . . . I'm not sure. I'm just really – really confused." To his own amazement, he found himself laughing. Magnus smiled, shifting his body closer so he was sitting side-by-side with Alec, their legs stretched out in front of them.

"Would it really be so terrible if people thought you were friends?"

He thought about it, trying to analyse the detailed. A part of him still felt like he was in a dream. "No."

Magnus nodded. "No." He looked at Alec, his eyes revealing only the slightest hint of worry. "Alec."

"Magnus."

"I wish you would have told me about this. If I'd have known you had anxiety, I could have prevented this."

"I don't really like talking about it," Alec said, looking down. "I don't . . . I don't like drawing attention to myself."

"A severe anxiety disorder is reason enough to get attention – you don't have to feel bad about asking." Magnus replied, not unkindly.

"I know, I just – ugh, you saw how it was. I can usually stop it, or feel when it's coming, but sometimes, things like that happen, just _tiny_ things. Funny, how I can be calm during an interrogation, and go crazy over a photo. God, it's like I'm drowning, and –"

"And it's bad. I know."

"I don't know if you do." Alec frowned.

"I know," Magnus repeated. "I used to have anxiety. Not as bad as you, but I had it." He smiled, his eyes far off in some distant memory. "This is going to sound fucking ridiculous, but I used to do this one thing whenever I felt panicky, and it _always _worked, every single time."

"What was it?" Alec asked, feeling the corners of his lips lift up slightly.

"Stab fruit."

"_What?!" _

Magnus joined Alec in his laughter. "I'm serious! Stab fruit. I'd go with apples, honestly. If you get citrus in your eyes, it's kind of a buzz kill. Just get a kitchen knife and go mental. Honestly, it's the greatest thing ever."

Alec laughed harder, shrinking lower down against the wall. Magnus was looking at him, grinning, and for a few seconds he didn't feel uncomfortable in the slightest.

"You have a beautiful smile, Alec." Magnus said in a quiet voice. His laughter trailed off as his embarrassment set in, and he straightened himself up, wrapping his arms around his torso. "Thanks," he mumbled, looking down at his hands.

"If I ask you something, will you tell me if you're not comfortable answering it?" Magnus asked.

"I . . . yes?"

"How long have you been in love with him?"

He knew that question was coming. He took a shaky breath, tightening his grip around his stomach. "Promise you won't mention any of this to anyone? Promise."

"If it's endangering to someone's life, I'm obligated by law to tell. But it isn't, is it?"

"Sometimes it feels like it." He took another breath, sorting out the information he needed to leave out. "I sort of . . . I met him when I was just a kid. I . . . I started feeling – feeling things for him . . . a few months afterwards."

"Does he feel the same way?"

He shook his head. "No."

Magnus sighed, and reached out for Alec, as if to comfort him. He hesitated a few inches from his shoulder and then decided against it. "And I suppose he doesn't know about you being gay?"

Alec cringed. He hated that word. "I don't think so, no."

"Does anyone?"

"I don't want anybody to know . . . ever." After Magnus, the only person who knew was Isabelle, but she avoided the topic like the plague. She didn't do it out of resentment, he knew – she didn't want him to feel bad about it, which she knew he did. He was a little shocked, with Magnus talking about it so casually. He hadn't been able to talk about it before like this – openly.

Magnus squinted at him with his strange, catlike eyes. "Why not? I don't mean that offensively, by the way. I'm just interested."

He bit his lip. "I wish I wasn't – I . . . I don't w-want to be . . ."

"Gay?" Magnus suggested, brows raised. Alec flinched.

"I don't want to like Jace this way," he said, choosing his words carefully. "I don't want people hating me any more than they already do. I don't want to spend the rest of my life with eyes on my back, judging me. I don't want to see the disgust in their eyes. Do you understand?"

"I do," he said with a kind smile. "And let me guess – Lightwood's aren't very tolerable to the non-heterosexual variety?"

"No. If they ever found out . . ." he shuddered. "Well, they would be ashamed to call me their son. They _wouldn't _call me their son."

"They would disown you for being gay?" Magnus asked, dumbstruck. Alec nodded, studying the other man's expression. He looked baffled and sympathetic, and protectiveness shone fierce in his eyes – though he was probably imagining it. "_Why?_"

"It's wrong," Alec said flatly.

"Who told you that?"

Alec opened his mouth to reply, and stopped. Magnus cocked an eyebrow, smirking.

"Oh?"

Alec nodded. "Oh."

"I thought so," he sighed and the hurled himself up off the floor, and turned around to pull Alec up with him. "Feeling any better?" he asked pointedly.

Alec smiled sheepishly. "Lots. Thank you."

"Anytime, sweetheart. You should drink that water though, just in case. I'm assuming your friends pulled a pretty little stunt with the NYPD last night, because Agent Herondale swears she sent to sentries out to patrol, and yet they were able to break into the apartment with zero problems. Needless to say Imogen wasn't exactly impressed, so securities doubled. Have a look."

Magnus lead him to the kitchen window. "There's two cars there, and one a few blocks down. There's also two officers outside now, and two more in the lobby."

"There goes my cunning escape plan," Alec joked, smiling nervously.

Magnus laughed. "Did I mention how touched I was with your loyalty last night?" he asked.

Alec frowned. "Huh?"

"You stayed. You could have left, with no problem at all. If I was in your position, I would have left without looking back. But you stayed. That says a lot about who you are."

"It does?"

"Of course. It says that you're a good person."

Alec blushed. "I'm not really."

The man rolled his eyes. "How else would you explain it?"

Alec shrugged. _Not being stupid_, he thought irritably. _And it's not my fault you're so . . . you. What else was I supposed to do?_

"Sorry, you can't change my mind. You're a good person, and nothing you say will make me think otherwise."

"Um, okay, how about this? I hate Shakespeare."

Magnus gasped in faux-horror. "_You monster_! Oh, wait, I thought Romeo and Juliet was stupid. I guess I can forgive you, just this once."

"How kind," Alec scoffed.

"I know, right? I should be knighted." He laughed. "_By the way! _If you're going to have a shower – have one now or have one later tonight; we have to leave at two."

Alec frowned – wasn't the entire point of house arrest to keep him from leaving the house? "Leaving where?"

"To the station. Just a check-up to make sure you have murdered me and skipped town or something. You'll have to do it for at least a month or two – it all depends on how long it takes to go to court. After a while they'll be more lenient."

He nodded. A check-up would be almost pleasant. On one hand, it meant seeing that psychotic Herondale woman again, but it also meant leaving the house, which meant fresh air, which meant open spaces and good things for a claustrophobic Alec Lightwood.

He glanced at the duffle bag with his stuff in it. He felt dirty, which meant he probably was. "You don't mind if I have a shower now, do you?"

"Course not. The bathroom's next to your room on the left. Your towels are by the sink, and just through those closes in the basket. I _was _going to buy you some stuff today, but I guess I don't have to now. Although," he grimaced at Alec's visible clothes in the bag, "I think I have a moral obligation to burn everything in that thing. _Tell_ me that sweater is supposed to be brown?"

Alec blushed. "It faded. I've – I've had it for a couple years."

"I can tell. Vintage is only cool if it's not _actually _vintage, sweetheart." Magnus sighed dramatically. "Go have your shower, Alexander."

Alec picked up the duffel bag and started towards the bathroom, but when he got to the hall, Magnus spoke again. "About your parents, Alec . . ."

Alec cringed. He _had _been hoping the topic was dismissed. Nothing made him feel worse than talking about his family issues. _Although, you felt better when you told Magnus, didn't you?_

"Yeah?"

"It might not be my place to say, but from my understanding of things, I think the word _family, _when you look at the subtext of it – it means acceptance. Trust, compassion, loyalty, respect, _love. _All those things are what make_ real _families worth fighting for. God knows, I didn't have the best childhood – and maybe that's why I feel that, if you don't have all that good stuff, what else do you have but the bad stuff? The thing is, Alec; I see you, and I see your kindness and loyalty, and I'm wondering if you're wasting all this love on people who wouldn't do the same for you. You need to figure that out for yourself, though. You need to figure out who's worth loving, and who's worth calling family."

Magnus bit his lip and looked down, as if he regretted speaking. Alec stared at him, his lips ajar, unsure how to reply. He wasn't sure whether to be angry or sad or thankful or flattered. Instead, he went with honest.

"I don't know how to respond to that in the right way."

Magnus gaped at him in amazement for a moment, and then let out a breathless laugh, still looking at him as if he was some sort of old, forgotten dream from his childhood, come to life. "Go and have your shower," was all he said, still smiling.

Alec turned and left, frowning. He wasn't entirely sure why Magnus was laughing, but he was even more confused as to why he was looking at him the way he had. _I probably sounded like an idiot_, he decided.

He stepped into the bathroom, his jaw dropping. It was about as large as Jace and his bedroom, if not bigger, and to the left was one of the biggest bathtub he'd ever seen in his entire laugh. _Bathtub _was a poor choice of words – a large spa or a small swimming pool would suit better. He shook his head and turned on the water from the shower, which was also ridiculously wide. His own shower was about the size of a linen cupboard.

He reached his hand out to feel the water and gasped. It was hot. Painfully hot. He almost laughed – at home, it would take ten minutes for his shower to get _warm, _let alone _boiling hot_. He hadn't had a hot shower in _months_.

_I don't know why I'm surprised, _he thought, fiddling with the taps until it was the desired temperature. _Magnus is rich – rich enough to afford a freakishly large bathtub, anyway. Big water isn't a big deal. _

And yet, when he undressed and stepped under the warmth of the shower hose, he found himself sighing contentedly, as if the panic attack earlier was just a vague dream.

*********************************************************************  
"Well, this is a bit awkward."

Isabelle glared at him, her fingers curled into claws around her mobile; Maryse's answering text still grinning at them like some smug little harpy from the pits of hell. Or maybe _Maryse _was the smug little harpy from the pits of hell.

_Although, _Jace thought. _She had a soul, on most days. This had Robert's name all over it._

"I . . . I can't _believe her!" _Isabelle screeched, her voice rising to an impressive height. Jace shushed her angrily.

"Jesus Christ, Izzy, you'll alert every junkie in the neighbourhood with that freaking banshee cry, shut up!"

"There are no junkies –"

"We're getting off topic," Jace shook his head. "Alright. So what _exactly _did you write to her?"

Isabelle frowned, her eyes darkening. Jace had noticed the bags under her eyes and the slept-in mascara smudges the moment he stepped into the flat. Being careless about her appearance was very un-Isabelle like. "I already told you. 'Reply to this as soon as you receive it. Alec has been arrested by Imogen Herondale, and his identity is compromised. Jace escaped, but they're looking for him. Come home, we need you.'"

Jace sighed. "That's fantastic."

Isabelle must have heard the anger in his voice, and snarled. "Hey, jackass, what else was I supposed to say? 'Hey Mummy, just wanted to say you're the bestest in the whole wide world. Also, Alec's been arrested. Love you, XOXO.' Keeping emotions out of it is the best thing right now."

"I wasn't referring your text. It was fine." He stretched his limbs, leaning back on the dining chair, yawning. He hadn't slept in almost thirty six hours, and sitting in the dim, dark little dining room was taking its toll on his remaining energy. "It's her reply that's getting to me."

"Tell me about it."

"I just don't _get _it."

Isabelle glanced at the text again, a shadow passing over her expression. "'This is your problem," she read through gritted teeth. "'Sort it out. I'm sure Alexander wouldn't want to endanger his family's whereabouts. We have to honour his sacrifice.'"

Jace scoffed in disgust. "'We have to honour his sacrifice.' Jesus Christ. You know what that sounds like, Izzy? Fucking Satanism. Next it'll be sacrificing virgins and cannibalism and . . . . I don't know, something involving goat blood or something. There's always goat blood. I'm starting to think you were right for leaving when you got the chance. Alec wanted to leave too, but he stayed because I did. But this –"

". . . Is a new low," Isabelle finished his sentence and pushed the phone across the table, looking grim and nauseous, as if the sight of it made her sick. "And besides, at this point I don't particularly care what Alec wants. This isn't about want he wants – it's about protecting our brother, and right now we've done a pretty sucky job."

"I should have dragged him out by the hair, I swear to God." Jace moaned, running his fingers through his golden hair.

"Why did he stay?" Isabelle exclaimed furiously. "What the hell compelled him to stay? Guilt? Why would he feel guilty – he hasn't done anything!"

"It wasn't guilt. He stayed because he knew if he didn't it would be worse for all of us. It was smart. He's a fucking tool, but he's a fucking smart tool."

"I don't care what kind of tool he is – I want my brother back."

Jace smirked. "Speaking of tools – where's rat boy, anyway? Off playing Dugeons and Dragons with his little friends?"

Isabelle reached across the table and clipped him over the head. "_Simon _is helping his friend move some boxes for her uncle's store." The bitter jealousy in her voice was clear as day. "Her name's Clary. Stupidest name _ever. _But he wants to introduce her to me, and show her the flat, so I have to play the sweet stay-at-home girlfriend while he brings some stupid tramp –"

"Hey, Izzy! I'm back!"

Isabelle groaned. "Oh, for fuck's sake. That's Simon now. Look, don't mention the Alec thing; I told you, I don't want him finding out."

Jace followed her as she went to the front door.

"Are you gonna stay?" she asked under her breath.

"I think you need some moral support. And honestly, I'll take any excuse to torment Simey-Wimey," Jace grinned.

Isabelle rolled her eyes, and then her expression melted into an overly ecstatic smile when she saw Simon, talking to a short red-haired girl, the same age as Isabelle.

"I missed you!" She squealed, jumping into his arms. She kissed him messily, ruffling his hair and sighing longingly against his lips. Her body melted against his, pulling him closer to her. Simon, confused and hopeless as ever, wound his hands around her waist awkwardly, and Isabelle giggled. Jace held back laughter; already she was on defensive mode. She was only ever this annoying when she was competing with other girls.

"I, uh, jeez Iz, how long was I gone?" Simon asked, blushing a little.

"Too long," she whimpered dramatically. Jace felt it was time to step in.

"Far, far too long, rat boy," he said with faux sadness. "I've waited so long for you – an eternity, almost . . . you still look as handsome as ever with your rat-like features and your beady little eyes. . ."

"Shut up, Jace," Isabelle snapped. "Why 'rat boy', anyway? It's not even funny."

"It _is!_" Jace insisted, side stepping the trash in the hall and almost tripping when they finally reached the main room. "Just look at him – can't you see the rodent-y resemblance?"

"Give a round of applause to the comedic genius," Simon muttered, dumping a handful of shopping bags on the kitchen counter with a huff.

"Stop talking, weirdo. Look Izzy, _look into his soul and see the rat within." _

Isabelle huffed in annoyance, her hands curling into fists at her sides. "Whatever," she sighed. She squared her shoulders and studied her boyfriend, who looked humiliated and uncomfortable, blushing like a maid.

For a moment, Isabelle remained expressionless, and then, with great reluctance, a tiny smile spread across her face.

"Isabelle!" Simon exclaimed, and Jace hooted with laughter.

"I'm sorry! It's not a bad thing, you know! Some rats can be cute!"

"Some rats," Jace howled, doubling over. "Unfortunately, this fine specimen here is not one of them. Oh, dear God, I think I'm having a stroke. It's moments like these that make life so beautiful, oh my God –"

"Don't worry Simon," said a quiet voice from behind Jace. "At least you're not a big headed Neanderthal who puts his sister's boyfriend down to make himself feel big."

Isabelle's jaw dropped in surprise, and Jace raised his eyebrows. He spun around and stared at the girl who spoke.

She was ridiculously short, but she must have been the same age as Simon. Except she, unlike her friend, _didn't _look like a rat.

Long, vibrant red hair spilled across her shoulders down to nearly her waist, contrasting elegantly with the fair, pale rose tone of her skin and her big amber eyes. Her nose was sprinkled with freckles, but other than that her skin was bare. She didn't wear makeup, and her face was natural and soft and . . .

_Well_.

"I don't believe we've met." He said.

The girl regarded him coldly, her arms crossed over her chest. "Thank God," she said bluntly. Jace felt a tiny pang of hurt, but mostly, he was just impressed.

He held his hand out. "I'm Jace. Jace Wayland."

She ignored his gesture. "Clary Fray."

Jace smirked and opened his mouth to reply, but Isabelle cut him off.

"Well, yeah," she said quickly. "W-what Clary said. And besides, Simon is the hottest guy in the room. Hottest guy ever, actually." She flashed him her best Hollywood smile, and raised her voice. "I'm the luckiest girl in the _world_."

She jumped on him again.

"Uh," Simon started. "Not that I'm not loving this whole 'two girls defending my masculinity thing', but I need to have a look at something for a minute."

Isabelle pulled back, looking hurt. Simon went to the TV and turned it on, flicking through the channels until he found CNN.

"Did you hear?" he said seriously. "They found one of the Lightwoods."

Jace kept silent. Suddenly, the spotlight was on them. He took a step back, so Simon and Clary couldn't see his face, and glanced at Isabelle. She'd done the same thing, and her eyes were wide as plates, the blood drained from her face. _Please, please don't show his face_, Jace prayed.

"- _multiple reports of vandalism in the UK, with the words "Bad Wolf" scrawled in over seventy locations across the country. More word at eight." _The reporter shuffled his paper. "_Our top story this afternoon: officials have confirmed that they have taken the son of Maryse and Robert Lightwood – owners of the hemisphere's largest drugs and weapons smuggling business – into custody._

"_Alexander Lightwood, 20, was arrested early last night after being caught in a drugs bust by the NYPD. Eye-witnesses state that he has been picked up by renowned and questionable defence attorney Magnus Bane, who will act as his lawyer during the court session, of which the date has yet to be released. Rumours have yet to be confirmed that the Lightwood drug business is not also related to a kidnapping of Jonathan Herondale, a ten year old boy who disappeared shortly after moving in with his Grandmother, Imogen Herondale -current head of the New York Police Departmen – nine years previously."_

An old photo of Jace as a child flashed up on screen. He was with his mother, he saw, but her face was blurred out. Her smile was still visible through the pixels.

He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood.

It was sunny out, but the blinds were drawn, and in the dimness of the room, he sought out Isabelle's hand and held on tightly. She squeezed back, her sympathies going unsaid.

"_If you have any information concerning the whereabouts of Jonathan, or the Lightwoods, we urge you to contact Crimestoppers. Police refuse to discuss the details of Alexander Lightwood's release, but Agent Herondale did say that 'he and his family will not go unpunished for the deaths they've caused, and the lives they've ruined.' More news on this breaking news at six."_

Another picture flickered onto the screen – it was Alec. Isabelle's hand shot to her mouth, holding back a cry. Jace inhaled sharply, and then paused. The photo was from last night. He was walking outside the station, his head down, with Magnus Bane trailing beside him. It took a moment for him to understand, but then he smiled.

His face was blurred.

"Thank God," Isabelle said breathlessly. Simon straightened up, turned the TV off and spun around to stare at her.

"Come again?"

"Oh." Isabelle bit her lip. "I just – I just meant that he's been caught. You know – justice and all that."

"Yeah," Jace agreed. "Good to see the police are doing their jobs, getting horrible monsters like that guy off the street." If he wasn't so worried, he probably would have snorted.

"Is it just me, or did he look _really _familiar?" Simon said aloud, wondering.

Jace and Isabelle exclaimed a look. "Nope." They said in unison. "Not at all. His face was blurred out – it's impossible to see his face anyway."

Simon nodded absently. "Yeah, I know . . . it's just . . . I don't know. It felt like I've seen him before."

Clary, who had been silent the whole time, exclaimed in alarm. "Oh my God!" she shouted.

"Clary?" Simon asked.

"What's wrong?" asked Jace.

Clary ignored him. "_Simon! _Oh my God! Simon, I've seen him as well!"

Isabelle stood up frantically, then tried to brush it off as a stretch. Jace didn't miss the horror in her eyes. He looked at Clary intently. She was pacing around the room, looking horrified beyond belief.

"I know where I saw him, too. Oh my GOD. I used to see him _every week_ at Luke's bookstore!"

Jace wasn't sure why, given the circumstances, but he had to ask. "Is Luke your boyfriend?"

Clary brushed that off with a wave of her hand, but it looked like her mind was elsewhere. "He's my mum's friend. Oh my God, we used to talk all the time! I told him to read The Book Thief, and then he said I should read To Kill A Mockingbird!" she gasped for breath. "Oh my God, I spoke to a freaking Lightwood!"

Simon smiled in awe. "Wow," he said slowly. "What was he like?"

Clary opened and closed her mouth a few times, searching for words. "He was . . . pretty nice, actually. He barely spoke, though. I always thought it was just because he was shy –"

"- but he was actually just a murderous thieving junkie." Simon shook his head. "It's always the quiet ones. And it means I probably _have _seen him."

Simon frowned, and then glanced at Jace. There was an understanding in his eyes that made him want to turn and run. "What was the guys name again? Jonathan?" He looked Jace up and down.

_You need to sell this_, his mind hissed. He forced himself to laugh. It sounded rough and bitter and mocking, and most importantly, it sounded genuine. "My real name's Jackson, just in case wanted to research my family history. If I was a fucking Lightwood, rat-boy, I guarantee you I would not be wasting my time in a place like this."

There was a cool silence. Simon looked sheepish, and Clary looked annoyed. "Besides," he went on, starting on Clary. "Is your mum's friend Luke Garroway, by any chance?"

"Yes , how did you -"

"Exactly. Last time I checked, that place wasn't exactly thriving. Why would he go there, when he could just as easily buy somewhere better? You're imagining things, little girl." He didn't mean to be so cruel to her, but once he got started it was difficult to stop. And Simon finding out about Alec was one thing – the Fray girl was a stranger, and therefore a threat.

Clary met his eyes, looking furious. "I have won over twenty art awards, plus a scholarship." She said, her voice deathly quiet. "I take a drawing class at school, and two more outside of school. I can recognise body language and a person's shape like you can recognise your sister's face. I am _not _imagining things, and my name is _not _little girl." With that, she stormed passed him and down the hall. The door slammed shut, and Simon groaned.

"Thanks," he said, his voice thick with sarcasm. "She's never going to come back here again. Actually, you know what? You can see yourself out, too."

Isabelle put her arm on Simon's shoulder. "He's not leaving," she said firmly.

"He insulted me and offended my best friend!" Simon insisted. "Look, I'm all for jokes, and I don't really care how he treats me, but keep Clary out of this."

Isabelle moaned. "Oh, of course, it all leads back to C-"

"Simon's right."

They both turned to him. "What?"

"No, Simon, you're right. I've been a dick. And unfortunately I can't find it in my heart to feel sorry about that, but I can pretend to, out of the goodness of my heart. So, here you go; I'm sorry, rat boy. We'll talk later, little sister." He winked at Isabelle and gave Simon and look, and then left them both to their bickering. He _had _considered staying, just because it would be something to laugh at, but the amusement would be short lived. Isabelle won every fight.

He stepped out into the cold New York air and started down the street, thinking of Alec. What was he doing right now? Probably being interrogated by that weird attorney, who Alec seemed to have a fixation on. It hadn't been difficult to miss.

Maryse's text still lingered on his mind, and he felt his mood slip further. If Alec's parents refused to help, what could they do but wait blindly for a miracle to drop out of the sky?

The more he thought about it, the more he wished he was still that little boy in the photograph, smiling next to his mother.

**(A/N – so, I'm not **_**overly **_**fond of the ending, but altogether I'm pretty pleased with this chapter in general. The thing with Clary saying "I'm not a little girl" is a direct and deliberate quote from Cassandra Clare's book**_** Mortal Instruments: City Of Bones**_**, in case any of you wanted to accuse me of plagiarism ;D I wanted to reference it back to the book, because I'm trying to keep this fic as close to the series as possible. Also, hopefully the anxiety thing was covered well – I didn't want to make it too dramatic, but then the water analogy came in and . . . oops.**

**Okay, so I have a question for you all – should I make a playlist for this? I see other authors doing this all the time, just suggesting a song with every chapter, and it seems like fun. Would you guys be interested? LET ME KNOW.**

**Just another quick side note regarding Magnus's issue with Imogen; I've thought about it, and I'm not going to turn that into a huge plot point. Obviously it's still an issue, but I think we all know that Magnus is too fond of Alec to do anything like that, so it's just boring and obvious if I make a big deal out of it. Besides, I'm basing this story more around the characters and then emotional dealings (Alec's dream, Magnus's childhood, and Jace's flashbacks will all be key elements, btw)**

**Gahh! What is with me and long author's notes? Ok ok, thank you so, so much for taking the time to read this – it means so much to me that anyone likes it at all. I'm a review whore, so make sure to rate and review just to tell me what you thought. Happy Holidays!)**


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